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thefinalcinderella · 2 years ago

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Tsurune Book 3 Chapter 3 - The Song of Naru (Part 2)

Let me share my personal theory: In this universe, the sport of kyudo possesses the supernatural ability to alter one's brain chemistry. Those who have a deeper affinity with the bow are more transformed by this ability. Kyudo, it seems, can make one become more spiritually attuned and connect seemingly completely unrelated concepts, but also warp one's thought processes to the point of non-kyudo practitioners finding them incomprehensible.

Anyways I still had no idea what's going on. And yes, that last line in the chapter is real

Glossary here

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

The word used here is 文字絵 (mojie) which means a picture formed by letters

In Japanese, superstring theory (超弦理論) contains the character for "bowstring"

A yotsugake is a kyudo glove that covers four fingers

Dousha is "a form of Japanese archery with the purpose of shooting arrows from one end to the other of the outer area on the west side of Sanjyusangen-do temple"

Toshiya is another name for dousha

A kosode is a short-sleeved kimono. It contains the character for sleeve

Apparently this is a quote from Kuroko no Basuke?

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The sun was flashing, spreading rainbow-colored wings of light.

It was the middle of May. The prefectural high school kyudo tournament preliminaries were being held.

The competition event was “close range.” The first day’s “individual competition” consisted of shooting four arrows in two stages in zasha, and the top ten with the highest number of hits would be selected for the next round.

The “team competition” on the second day consisted of one coach and five to seven archers, and one male and one female team per school could participate. The competition format was teams of five, four shots in zasha, and a time limit of eight minutes. Forty-one schools participated in the boys’ competition, and the eight teams with the highest scores in the first and second rounds would advance to the prefectural tournament. Looking at the past results, winning was between thirty and thirty-five hits, and the lowest halfway point was twenty.

Kazemai High School had a total of six girls: the three second-years Hanazawa, Shiragiku, and Seo, and three first-years. The boys had a total of seven, with the five second-years Kaito, Ryouhei, Seiya, Nanao, and Minato, and the two first-years Himuro and Kanbayashi. A total of thirteen people entered the individual and team competitions.

Kazemai was the winning school last year, so they attracted a lot of attention. Their school’s name was printed on the back of their green jerseys along with the illustration of an arrow.

When a student from another school said, “Oh, it’s Kazamai,” Nanao folded his hands behind his head.

“This is read as Kazemai. I get it, I sometimes say it wrong too.”

Kaito was appalled. “Don’t get the name of your own school wrong.”

“Japanese kanji is hard because there are so many different readings. Nippon, Nihon, Hinomoto, and Yamato are all examples of the ever-changing name of our country, after all.”

“Oh, it’s Asahina and Eddie from YumiDou,” they heard someone say.

They looked and saw the Haneina High School members passing by, with the flashy duo leading them. “Haneine?” someone muttered when they saw the characters printed on the back of their orange jerseys.

“Those guys are called ‘Haneina High School’… Oi, Asahina and Eddie! Merha!”

When Nanao waved at them, Asahina and Eddie also waved back. In addition, there were other unique members following them, such as a man with narrow eyes, a boy with a notebook and pen, and a boy with fresh flowers in his bag.

Asahina saluted them. “Hey, Nanapri and everyone from Kazemai. It’s been a while. How are you guys?”

Eddie continued, “Prince Nanao, it has been long seen we’ve last contacted each other. The frog art (1) I received from you the other way has seen a lot of uses, that it has.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I saw your last stream. You hit the center of the target in the dark!”

“Thank you. My body learned how to do it using something interesting. If it’s my dojo, I rarely miss a shot.”

“That’s amazing. I’d like to learn that technique too,” Seiya said.

“During kai, the second joint of your bow hand’s index finger should be in line with the position of the tree branch outside the kyudojo.”

“That isn’t something you learned with your body, it’s something you saw with your eyes…”

“Haha, well, it’s alright, isn’t it? I’ll be able to do it with my mind’s eye sooner or later.”

Suddenly, Asahina stared at Minato.

“Hmm? Is there something on my face?”

“I don’t know why, but I feel like rubbing your forehead, Narumiya.”

Seiya quickly hid Minato’s forehead. “You need our advisor’s permission.”

“Seriously? Just how strict are things at Kazemai? If only we can use a jutsu to clone him and borrow one of them. Oh, speak of the devil, Doppelgangers No. 1 and 2 have arrived.”

Asahina’s gaze was directed at a group of people dressed in purple jerseys.

It was the Kirisaki High School kyudo club. The twin brothers Senichi and Manji stopped walking at almost exactly the same moment. Their bangs were arranged symmetrically to each other. Senichi, whose bangs were parted to the left, spoke.

“Doppelgangers are already old news. We’re the Twin Fighters now.”

Hearing this, Kaito’s jaw dropped.

“I can’t believe there are guys with terrible naming senses in a different way from Seiya… Are you sure you guys aren’t going against the times?”

“Huh!?” The twins exclaimed in unison. Kabashima and Yushima tried to calm them down, but Senichi picked up the corners of his mouth and bared his teeth, and Manji pulled his eyelid down and stuck out his tongue. Without paying any attention to what was going on around him, Ryouhei ran up to a certain person.

“Shuu-kun!”

“Hey, Ryouhei. Did you grow taller again?”

“Yep. I’m not losing to you yet!”

“Fufu. I guess I have to give up.”

“It’s a shame that Motomura-senpai and Sase-senpai aren’t here anymore. It’s so sad that everyone has to go their separate ways after graduating from high school, even though we had so much fun together. I wish I could shoot with everyone more.”

Shuu’s pale eyelashes wavered. Senichi and Manji reacted.

“Yamanouchi, stop calling him that.”

“Huh? But Shuu-kun is Shuu-kun, isn’t he?”

Someone was watching the jumble of green, orange, and purple as they chattered.

Kuon was lamenting outside the circle.

It’s him! The man I saw in my dreams.

…No, wait. Who is Fujiwara-senpai looking at?

Following his line of sight, Kuon found Minato there. Shuu had a gentle smile on his face.

I can’t believe this. Those who stand at the top should not smile so frivolously. I don’t care about the dog anymore. This guy must be harmful to Fujiwara-senpai.

The antique doll smiled coldly.

After the opening ceremony, the individual competition started. The order was random in individual competitions.

The girls went first. Hanazawa, Shiragiku, Seo, and six other girls put on their yugake and headed for the waiting room with their bows, arrows, and tsurumaki with spare strings. Tommy-sensei went with them.

Cheering squads from each school took their places in the stands. It was filled with people holding paper cranes with prayers written on them and others recording in notebooks.

The Kazemai girls started appearing from the third group. Hanazawa’s matooto was cheered by the audience, and Shiragiku and Seo, who were in separate groups, followed. They performed a light and lovely dance, and as a result, Hanazawa had two hits, Shiragiku had three hits, and Seo landed all four of her arrows.

Next was the boys’ division.

Haneina’s Asahina, Eddie, Matsuda, Kanuma, and Igarashi. The five unique and showy individuals captured people’s attentions even when they were alone. Two in particular, Asahina and Eddie, had hair colors that couldn’t be misperceived even from a distance, and their shooting was even more beautiful than in their videos. Their arrows were like flashes as lightning, and they hit with all four arrows.

Kanbayashi, a Kazemai first-year, watched them from the waiting room and thought, I can’t shoot disgracefully. I have to do my best not to bring shame to Kazemai.

The first individual match. Kanbayashi was at the second target in the second group. The archer before him drew his bow. He released his arrow and hit the target at three o’clock. It was a good start.

Meanwhile, tension had stiffened Kanbayashi’s shoulders.

Huh? Why can’t I focus?

As he panicked in his mind, he raised his bow and moved to daisan. He slowly pushed his bow open—

Right when Kanbayashi realized it, the arrow was no longer in his hand and was sticking out of the arrow path. The arrow had jumped out of his hand while he was still drawing his bow. He had no idea what happened.

Crap, crap, crap.

No way, is this target panic…?

No, no, no, I’ve been nervous plenty of times, but I’ve never let go this early. No, there’s no time to think about this. I have to nock the next arrow—. His hands were shaking, and his bow grip was becoming slick with sweat.

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’ll be okay next time.

The more he chanted that in his mind, the rougher his breathing became.

For his second shot, Kanbayashi’s arrow was once again released before reaching kai. The venue became noisy as people started murmuring to each other, and the sound of someone saying “Ah” remained in his ears. The archer behind him released a sharp-flying arrow. Shouts of “Yes!” reverberated.

Kanbayashi’s third shot came around. He could feel his hands shaking. He didn’t know how to interpret this first-time sensation. What did Narumiya-senpai say? To overcome target panic, focus on breathing and exhale slowly. Exhale, exha…, oh no, I can’t do it—.

Again, before he even drew his bow back, the arrow was released in an instant. The sound of the aluminum arrow sweeping across the ground resounded, and it pierced the target after bouncing.

Is this what it means to not hear a tsurune?

It was almost terrifying for an archer.

After shooting all four arrows, Kanbayashi didn’t make any matooto, while Kaito, Seiya, and Minato landed all their arrows, and the others ended the first round with three hits.

Once he left the kyudojo, Kanbayashi buried his face in his hands. His heart was still pounding. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Nanao called out, but Kanbayashi’s face was so stiff that all he could manage was a forced smile.

This is so embarrassing. I became a complete mess in front of my senpais and my family who came to support me.

I’ve been practicing and practicing, but when the actual competition comes, I end up like this. What am I doing—.

Kanbayashi gripped the arrows that he retrieved.

“Please remove me from the lineup for tomorrow’s team competition! I can’t do it! I definitely have target panic! I don’t want to be a burden on everyone!”

This time it wasn’t Kanbayashi, but Minato and the second-years who were blinking rapidly.

It was Kaito who responded. “Oi, oi. We’re still only halfway through the individual competition. Why don’t you just hit the remaining four?”

Nanao and Ryouhei also chimed in.

“That’s right. It’s a little too early to give up. Let’s focus on the individual competition in front of us first.”

“Yeah, what he said. There was also a time when I panicked because my string snapped, but I managed.”

However, Kanbayashi didn’t change his opinion.

“It’s impossible! I’ve always had the potential to get target panic! My mental weakness is the only thing I’m confident about! You have to have had it to understand how awful it is!”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Minato. Nothing but the words of someone who experienced target panic could reach Kanbayashi’s heart now.

Minato stepped forward.

“Although it’s called target panic, it’s still a relatively early and sudden system. It’s not severe yet. We can get back on track.”

“You saw me, didn’t you!? My terrible shooting! I was so careful about target panic, but why, why…”

“Let’s do the dantian breathing exercises together. You’re too worked up right now, but you’ll calm down in a few minutes.”

“I can’t do such wishful thinking!”

Minato took Kanbayashi’s hand.

“Kanbayashi, listen to me. My mom once told me about something she read in a book. In ancient times, the Japanese named very fast vehicles ‘tsubame.” The second-fastest were ‘kodama,’ and the ones after that were ‘hikari.’ What do you think is a vehicle that’s faster than light?”

“…Was there anything faster than light?”

“The Shinkansen ‘Nozomi.’ It’s the Japanese word for ‘hope.’ The slogans were, ‘Nozomi of Ambitious Japan! is always there for you’ and ‘Nozomi is the fastest way to meet the person you want to see.’”

Tommy-sensei, who had been watching their exchange, smiled broadly.

“I’ve ridden on the ‘Hinotori’ before. E=mc2. It reminds one of Einstein, the monument of theoretical physics. When things move, they get heavier.”

“Tommy-sensei, you’re knowledgeable about physics too?” Kanbayashi said.

“No, not at all. I’m just a geography teacher. I only know the two theories: relativity, which deals with gravity, and quantum mechanics, which explains the behavior of matter in the microscopic world.”

“The only one of the seventeen subatomic particles that hadn’t been confirmed, the Higgs boson particle, was discovered in this century. It was called the God particle, and is responsible for giving mass to everything. And I guess there’s also the ‘superstring theory,’” Seiya supplemented. (2)

“Super-string?”

“The superstring theory. It’s a theory that claims that the origin of all things is ultra-small ‘strings’. The theory is that particles are actually the vibrations of these strings. It’s still at the stage of hypothesis.”

“The universe is made up of the sound of strings. I guess it would be too poetic to say that tsurune is the true nature of matter. Sound is the vibrating waves of air. Since it’s said that everything from people and plants to minerals are made up of waves, to say that ‘Nozomi’ is faster than light might not necessarily be wrong,” Masa-san said.

“Wow, tsurune is incredible.”

Tommy-sensei smiled with satisfaction at Kanbayashi, who was blinking rapidly.

“When I hear the word ‘ambitious,’ I think of Dr. Clark’s words. ‘Boys, be ambitious. Like this old man.’ I can almost hear the doctor laughing as he says, ‘I’m an eternal young man.’ Now, there’s still a long, long way to go. Let’s go to the next stage together.”

“I don’t really understand, but I’m going to let the team competition wait and focus on what’s in front of me right now.”

Kanbayashi changed his mindset and practiced dantian breathing as Minato put his hand on his lower abdomen.

As for the results of the individual competition, Kazemai’s Minato, Seiya, and Kaito, Kirisaki’s Shuu, Kabashima, and Kuon, Haneina’s Asahina and Eddie, and Seo from the girls’ division would be advancing to prefecturals.

The second day was the team competition.

The first round. The Haneina team, who were famous as Yotubers, drew a lot of attention for their shooting.

The oomae was Eddie Fox.

His long, blond hair was tied high up on his head, and a headband was tied around his forehead. He looked like an actor in a period drama. Once he gripped his bow, his jokester persona disappeared as his eyes sharpened, his breathing became shallower, and his face became dreadfully serious. A burst of sound resounded from the target area as he took advantage of a momentary gap and got in close to his opponent.

The second target was Matsuda Kotetsu.

He had poor vision, and the world he saw was composed of multicolored balls of light. His hearing was above average, and he had an excellent sense of perception. Whenever he stood before the target, he always stood behind someone else because it was easier to perceive the distance when someone was standing in front of him. Kyudo was a sport that could be played by people of all ages, and physical differences were no handicap. With the use of remote video conferencing, it was even possible to have a match with people on the other side of the world at the same time.

The third target was the naka, Kanuma Nobuhiko.

He was a haiku poet who loved writing haikus. He was staring absentmindedly into space during the middle of a competition.

A staff member approached him and asked him in a whisper, “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?”

“The eye of the snake/the white water surface holds/the golden-scaled fish. I tried to write a poem about carps living in a pond, but I guess it’s too mediocre. On a summer’s day/the koi frolic and a cat/sleeps beneath a tree. How’s that?” (3)

“This isn’t a haiku contest, it’s a kyudo tournament! Concentrate on your shooting!”

“Okaaay.”

Kanuma nocked his arrow. The spectators who had witnessed the scene were taken aback by his lack of nervousness and extraordinary strength of his heart.

The fourth target was the ochimae, Igarashi Shion.

He was the Gardening Prince who loved flowers. Even when he was sitting in his chair in the waiting room, he kept fresh flowers with him and left them with his tsurumaki. Even his bow was decorated with flowers he drew himself, and there were even people who wanted him to sell it to them. His shooting was as sweet-smelling as a flower and created the illusion of a fairy flying.

The fifth person was the ochi, Asahina You.

His red hair symbolized the rising sun. He parted his bow and followed the correct tsurumichi path. What was beautiful was good, and what was good was true. If you sought beauty and aesthetic, you would naturally follow the right path without being aware of it. Far from concepts such as “seeking the truth” and “ascetic training,” and the irrepressible joy that radiated from him captivated those who watched him. He liked to have fun, and believed in fundamentally ignoring what wasn’t fun or changing it to be fun.

The Haneina High School kyudo club was both noble and greedy. They lived not by the values of others, but their own axes. The five of them were comrades and friends who had met each other on their travels. Of course, there were occasional clashes of opinion, but they knew when to quit, so there were no lingering resentments. Making videos was a great way to learn about life and society, as what one said and did was constantly exposed to the public eye. It wasn’t easy to communicate something to others. True expressive people seemed to be free and unfettered at first glance, but they kept their feet on the ground and devoted themselves to their work.

The five of them carved out the Eight Stages of Shooting.

Ashibumi, douzukuri, yugamae, uchiokoshi, hikiwake, kai, hanare, zanshin.

When five circles, a “yoko kaichuu,” were lined up next to each other on the scoreboard, there was an eruption of applause.

Hanazawa, Shiragiku, and Seo, who were watching from the stands, let out sighs.

“It feels really fun.”

“Their shooting was brilliant.”

“They’re formidable opponents. It seems that the boys’ division won’t be so smooth-sailing.”

The members of the Haneina High School kyudo club achieved the high results of four, four, four, three, and four hits each.

Second round, first kyudojo. The champions, Kirisaki High School, were taking their turn.

The oomae was Kabashima. He was particular about his face and form. In the name of Kirisaki High School, he shot so that no one could complain. When gripping the bow, the tenmonsuji should be firmly sticking to the todake, and the skin between one’s thumb and index finger should be rolled up from below. It was no exaggeration to say that kyudo began with the Eight Stages of Shooting and ended with the Eight Stages of Shooting. Originally, it was the Seven Stages, but with the addition of “zanshin,” it became eight. Why did they make it eight? He felt something profound in it. He earnestly, single-mindedly, carved out the Eight Stages and created a matooto. He was intoxicated by the sweet tone.

Senichi was at the second target, and Manji was at the third. Although their time-difference attack was sealed up, the confidence of the Twin Fighters was evident. We stand on the front line, the firing line. Come on, follow us. They looked completely relaxed, as if victory had been decided before the fight had even begun.

The ochimae was Kuon Takumi. Unusually for a high school student, he used a yotsugake. (3) There were slight differences in gripping the string depending on whether you were wearing mitsugake and yotsugake. Originally used in dousha, (4) and it was said that yotsugake was more suitable for people who drew many arrows like the toshiya (5)in Sanjusangen-do or for people with tough bows, but since Kuon believed that yotsugake were more superiorly ranked than mitsugake, he chose to use it. The arrow that was released almost hit the center. A rapturous air exuded from his whole body.

When the ochi, Shuu, started to lift his bow, the entire venue resonated with silence.

Even the sound of his clothes rustling was daunting. He possessed a divinity, as if he had reached a higher level than what everyone called the “Young Lord.” He himself became a bow and emitted a tsurune that soared through the heavens. Shuu’s sound instantly erased the uncanny colors created by Kuon and purified the place.

A true sound.

A good sound.

A beautiful sound.

By the time the people whose hearts were pierced came back to their senses, Shuu had already left.

The results were announced over the loudspeaker.

“The results will be announced now. First shooting range, Team 17, four, four, three, four, four, nineteen hits total. Second shooting range, Team 18, four, two, two, four, 12 hits total. That is all.”

Kirisaki won, and Kazemai went after them.

The oomae, Kaito, drew his bow tightly. He relaxed his hands and stretched his upper arms.

More force, more force. He stretched and stretched—then released. The arrow was sucked into the target while spinning clockwise.

The second target, Ryouhei, didn’t only grow in height. He had the dignity of an archer, and he shot with majesty. He was someone who had love for everyone. He would continue to have affection for himself and others for the rest of his life. The target accurately reflected the archer, and the round target, without deceit or calculation, was waiting to be pierced.

The naka, Seiya, was also clearly different from who he was a year ago. He took off his obstinate armor and stretched his limbs freely. He hated himself. He hated irrationality, fate, all of it. When he became entwined with hatred and fell into a swamp, there was someone who reached out to him. That person said that they didn’t care what kind of person he was.

The ochimae, Kanbayashi, began to carry out his shot. He concentrated on the lower abdomen that Minato had put his hand on before.

The dantian is “here.”

Now, gather the light here.

He threw away all speech and listened only to the sound of his breathing. When the wind calmed down, his arrow flew at high speed.

The ochi was Minato. He summoned the wind that should have stopped. The wind that rushed around the earth was the land’s breath. Once you were able to feel that, you became a wind user. He manipulated the wind at will and connected it to a new era.

The tsurune took everything away.

For the results of the first round, Kazemai had fifteen hits out of twenty.

After the first and second rounds were completed, Kirisaki had thirty-six hits, Haneina had thirty-five, and Kazemai had thirty-three.

All three schools made it through the preliminaries.

After the tournament, the Kazemai second-years and Masa-san waited for a car to pick them up. Tommy-sensei and the first-years went home first. Waves of people came and went to the other shore.

Minato, Seiya, and Ryouhei sat on the edge of a flower bed. Ryouhei immediately started to eat his sweets. Seiya, finding the verse from “Greensleeves” stuck in his head, couldn’t help but hum it.

He met eyes with Masa-san, who was next to them.

“Is that an English folk song? You know a lot of old songs, Seiya.”

“If you know it, then you must be ancient as well, Masa-san. Minato’s mom used to hum it. Oh, it can’t be helped if you don’t know it.”

A bell was rung. Fighters burned with quiet fighting spirit.

Seeing the two jab at each other, Nanao quickly took out his phone. He entered the search words, and the English lyrics and translation were displayed.

Kaito peered at them.

“What’s this? Isn’t this just a guy who got dumped and kept whining about it? Isn’t it too obsessive to say at the end, ‘Goodbye, please come here again and love me?’”

“Kacchan, you don’t understand heartbreak at all.”

“Hah? I don’t need to.”

“Yep, that’s what I thought.”

Ryouhei said that he would eat all the sweets.

“What kind of woman is Greensleeves? He’s calling her name over and over, right?”

Seiya was the one who answered. “I did some research, but the prevailing theory seems to be that it’s a metaphor and not a real name. There are various theories that Greensleeves is a prostitute, a dead person, or a ghost. Also, some people think that Greensleeves isn’t a song about lost love, but more like a hymn.”

For a moment, sound disappeared.

Even though it should have been extremely noisy with all the people around, the area was so silent that it made their ears hurt. Even the birds were quiet.

Masa-san murmured a few words.

“Green kosode—. (6) I think it’s talking about the upper arm.”

“What do you mean?” Minato asked.

“There’s a custom in the West to wear green when one turns into a spirit. When you think of Santa Claus, you think of red clothes, but that was because he was dressed in a company’s image color in advertisements, and in England, he was originally dressed in green. According to one theory, Santa Claus is Saint Nicholas, that is, a clergyman. He is a person who seems to have existed, and his name and deeds are passed on to his disciples.”

“What does that have to do with ‘upper arms’?”

“I think ‘Greensleeves’ refers to the arms themselves. It’s ‘green sleeves.’ When you touch the arm of a person, a miracle will occur. That makes them a vessel of the divine.”

Masa-san typed into his phone.

Alas, my love, you do me wrong.

Greensleeves was all my joy.

Greensleeves was my delight.

Oh, my chest feels like it’s about to burst. You who bestow love, how cruel you are.

You let enjoy your love, and say you’ll forsake me. Is this a test of God?

Greensleeves, you are joy itself.

Greensleeves, you are days of happiness.

I was happy just being by your side.

Seiya spoke.

“That sound like words dedicated to God. A somewhat critical song of lamentation and resignation.”

“Greensleeves may have been a person who had a healing hand that could cure illnesses and injuries, or maybe she was a saint. There are even those who say that it is the name of God. It’s distinct from the secular world and doesn’t appear openly. Even if you’re attracted by, yearn for, adore, sacrifice yourself, and give up all your wealth and power for the singing voice that you overhear from the church, you cannot touch ‘it.’”

“I see. In that case, I can at least acknowledge the manly spirit of ‘I’ll stop you even if I have to cling to you,’” Kaito said. (7)

“Kacchan, this isn’t a rugby play. And ‘manly spirit,’ really? You completely ruined the mood,” Nanao said.

Seiya lowered his eyes and took off his glasses.

“Being abandoned by God might be an indication that humans are irredeemable.”

Shiragiku’s expression clouded over, and she gripped Seo and Hanazawa’s hands.

“How awful…it was such a wonderful melody.”

As everyone fell silent, Minato pondered.

Has God abandoned humans?

Is this really true? Didn’t I forget something important?

“You’re wrong! Such a sad and gentle melody could never be a criticism and lament to God. This is a joyful song for a coming-of-age ceremony!” he started shouting.

Before he knew it, everyone was staring at him blankly. The three girls shrank back while still holding hands.

Masa-san tried to follow Minato’s thought process.

“Coming-of-age ceremony? What’s with this all of a sudden? Where did your thoughts fly to, Minato?”

“I remembered my mother’s words. She said that at coming-of-age ceremonies, it’s a ‘song of naru.’”

“…What do you mean? Did your mother have a shrine maiden disposition?

“No, she was a normal mom.”

“Don’t put too much stock in what Narumiya calls ‘normal.’ By the way, who’s Naru? Is that a new character? Now I’m even more confused.”

Kaito scratched his head.

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#tsurune #tsurune translation

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athousandbyeol · 2 years ago

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discussion #4 (only friends): only friends cast as the seven deadly sins [part 1]

the wait is over. the official trailer of the most awaited series of 2023 was out a few hours ago, causing mayhem everywhere and anywhere (as it should).

the trailer started off strong with mew narrating the story and is covered in blue (i'm speculating this will be his and namchueam's colour judging from this post. and do notice that ray and boston are also in the same colour: white. but my theory is ray's colour will be green and boston will be red (we can see it in the official trailer. green wallpaper in ray's room. boston in the red room. i might extend this observation once the drama airs). but in this post, i won't go into details about the colour theory.

in this discussion, i'll highlight the possibility of the only friends characters as the seven deadly sins: pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony and sloth. the first part will cover mew, top, ray and san.

side note: this is just from my close observation of the official and mock trailers. also, since we don't get much of namchueam's story, there's bound to be an error in my judgement.

as always, please take this discussion with a grain of salt. :)

mew | sloth

sloth, in the context of the seven deadly sins, is commonly defined as laziness. however, the legitimacy of this being a sin isn't clarified and credited to an extreme extent. yet, it's still considered a sin. but in the hierarchy of deadly sins, sloth is ranked seven; the last. this somehow indicates sloth or laziness isn't as blasphemous as the other six.

in my perspective, mew is a sloth because:

exhibit #1: his solitude

in the mock trailer, mew is introduced as a studious student who has no time to date. he doesn't think it's necessary to get laid or be in a relationship while studying.

he's comfortable being single. mew isn't ready to commit because it isn't in his goals. he wants to study and earn that degree. craft a successful future afterwards. that's it. the fun in his dictionary is different from ray and boston.

i view this as laziness because mew is hesitant to change. he doesn't like/want to entertain the idea of meeting new people or hooking up with anyone (he's against one-night stands) probably because it challenges his morality. therefore, mew's reluctance in changing is a form of laziness— or reticence to differences.

exhibit #2: his (innocent) virtues

i like the parallel between mew in the mock trailer and the official trailer. he's still nerdy. he still takes his degree seriously (i hope?). and because of his meticulous/introverted personality, he has many visions.

it has to do with him being a top student in class for him to set goals and have a list of things he likes/wants in life/lover.

interestingly, in the official trailer, mew lays down three characteristics of a lover that he wants:

respectful

friendly/easy-going/adaptive

honest

as i've mentioned, mew sticks to his probity like glue. he's the kind of person who isn't fond of rule-breaking. and i've included in my previous discussion that mew (initially) isn't open to change.

why is this lazy? in persistence, there's also adamance. i believe mew's stubbornness to stick to his beliefs/virtues makes him 'lazy' to open up to new horizons. he sees only the four walls surrounding him but not the bigger picture, what's outside of this box.

he will after he discovers top's dishonesty, though.

exhibit #3: getting help from others

it's known by everyone that boston introduces top to mew. it's out of pity and disbelief because boston really can't accept that mew has never slept with anyone in four years? to boston, that's the craziest thing he has ever heard (well, boston, not everyone is like you so—)

receiving help from others can be seen as lazy because as someone who's at the receiving end, no effort is required. it's already served to them on a plate. and what should they do when someone gives? they take. and that's what mew did. he took top from boston without much thought.

side note: honestly, for a smart guy like mew, i can't believe he just let this happen to him. (are you ok, sweetie? did you think it was a good idea? coming from boston of all people?)

i see mew fitting 'sloth' the best because of his obliviousness, reluctance, kindness and innocence. his laziness in making a better judgement of his friends, his relationship with top and their hidden agenda is his deadliest sin. he perceives everything with rose-tinted glasses and innocence that aren't meant for this cruel world.

but contrary to the other six, mew's sin will change him for the better.

top | pride

when i look at top, i can't think of anything else but pride.

he's prideful. he knows he has control over boston. he thinks he has mew wrapped around his fingers (i'm sorry to break it to you, top, it's the opposite).

but why? what makes top so arrogant?

exhibit #1: boston's unwavering desire

boston: a sense of ownership

boston feeds most of top's pride. in my topmew colour theory, i've dived into top's personality (top being on the dark spectrum) and concluded he's a multi-layered persona that's only filled with insecurities and sadness. but he hides them well because he has a mask he can wear; it's boston.

top and boston share this parasitic relationship where they steal/render nutrients from each other (in this case, their perception of true love, healthy relationships, honesty and trust). it's not love per se— it's just them knowing they can always turn to each other to get what they think they can't get from their respective love interest/friend with benefit (mew and nick). their relationship is based on toxicity and ownership. and this ownership drives top to believe he'll always win. nothing can faze him. he won't crumble because of love (little did he know... poor top).

exhibit #2: the presence of mew

mew: a sense of true love

mew feeds top's pride differently. mew provides top with love, happiness and fear.

love: mew teaches top how to properly fall in love. not only for the sex. not only for the kisses and hugs. mew teaches top that love isn't who belongs to who— love is two people that belong to each other. no rankings whatsoever. mew teaches top that love is equal and one plus one makes two— two different people can come together and fall in love. as simple as that. despite the differences, they can work it out.

happiness: mew makes top happy by asking him out on dates, and doing the most boring, casual and mundane stuff together, like other couples do. something normal. something simple. nothing scandalous. just those dates from the cheesiest lakorns. but the simplest things always provide the most happiness. mew helps top appreciate the simplicity in life.

side note: do notice that most of topmew dates are mostly in the daylight while topboston's sex escapades are at night. it shows that mew brings light (happiness/positivity) into top's life. so when top discovers this light, he becomes obsessed. he genuinely falls for mew. it'll be difficult for top to let mew go.

fear: losing mew is top's biggest fear. he doesn't want mew to extract himself from his world. because he's so used to having mew by his side, that bright and sunny mew, top can't sink into the darkness again (his relationship with boston). he can't bring himself to accept the fact one day mew will know of his shenanigans and mew can't handle that because who will? who can ever be okay with your lover fucking your best friend behind your back?

boston enhances top's pride as he feels valid and needed. but mew diminishes top's pride as he loses self-control and independence.

so, who hurts top's pride the most? it's definitely mew.

ray | gluttony

in my opinion, ray and san are similar. i see ray as 'gluttony' and san as 'greed'. the connotation of these two sins is somewhat identical, but ray is gluttonous because of his indecisiveness. why?

exhibit #1: his one-sided love for mew

in both trailers, there are still hints of ray harbouring romantic feelings for mew. it's more apparent in the mock trailer. however, the raw jealousy and dissatisfaction are more evident in the official trailer (which affirms my assumption of ray as 'gluttony').

ray knows mew doesn't love him romantically. ray knows he can't be mew's special someone. and that hurts him really badly. it's the notion of knowing he doesn't stand a chance but there's always a slither of hope— ray is somewhat gullible in a sense. mew thinks of him as a good friend and nothing more. and ray can't accept that.

however, the problem ray faces is he can't quite forget about mew. perhaps it's the curiosity that irks him still, why can't mew love me? what does top have that i don't?

so he makes himself available for mew—

supports mew by confronting boston (in the mock trailer) and top (in the bts picture)—

—thinking he has a chance. but he doesn't.

he still wants to be someone important in mew's life. he still wants to be in mew's life. if he can't have mew as his lover, then he'll just be a friend to mew. that's enough to feed his 'hunger' to be valid in mew's world, to exist in mew's universe.

exhibit #2: confuses himself in wanting san for lust or stability

when mew can't love and satisfy ray's hunger for a stable relationship, he seeks companionship in san.

the mind-boggling thing about ray and san's dynamic is both of them know they want each other from the get-go. the spark is there and it's waiting to blaze. but ray doesn't know if he ever wants to let mew go. he thinks he can't. he's so used to wanting mew more than anything. the concept of getting something aside from mew messes his brain.

yet, the moment san came into his life, ready to fill the holes in ray's heart and love him with all his soul, ray is overwhelmed. he's afraid.

why? i believe gluttony has a close relationship with fear and pride. when we're hungry, we think you can eat more than we can chew. so we don't stop taking— because we believe we can finish them all. but when we're full and there are still so many on our plate, it's either we throw them away or leave them aside (i'm sorry if this metaphor doesn't make sense...)

he takes so much from san because he doesn't get anything from mew. but when san gives a portion of himself and takes a fragment of ray, it confuses him— it scares him.

san makes him full, but ray doesn't know if he can ever be satisfied without mew— like having an incomplete meal. veggies— yes. protein— check. rice— empty.

san | greed

as i've discussed, san is ray's reflection. they mirror each other's positives and negatives.

san portrays greed by wanting something stable— something certain— a label— with ray. i have an inkling that ray has set things straight the first time they met— he only wants company. this isn't something romantic or forever. this is just a one-night thing. no hard feelings, yes?

and san honestly has no right to be angry if ray can't give him that because san said himself—

so, why is he so worked up with ray? why is he so upset when he realises ray is using him for many purposes— the main reason being to feed his loneliness?

exhibit #1: friends should stay friends (san's insecurity)

i don't know if san deludes himself that ray is only his friend to avoid being heartbroken, but it's just puzzling to me at this point.

this speculation arises when top says this to san—

i wonder if top and san shared a history together. it might be them dating the same person (for example: san's past boyfriend broke up with him. and then top dated san's ex). or top and san were boyfriends in the past but things didn't work out (probably due to san's insecurity and top's dishonesty). [thanks to this user for pointing this out. i just added my own input in their discourse hehe.]

insecurity. i think this word speaks so much of san's personality. that's why he built those walls. he doesn't want to be at the broken end again. his greed, however, leads to temptation, and ray is one hell of an attractive guy, so san can't say no. he can't really ignore ray because of that— ray is just so tempting. he thinks ray can give him everything he wants— aren't they the same?

exhibit #2: san's dire need for stability and certainty

san resonates with ray. he might see the old him in ray. therefore, he wants to help ray out of that loophole. he doesn't want ray to self-destruct just because of a one-sided love when san knows ray deserves better— he deserves someone like san in his life.

as their relationship progresses, san notices the potential to shift this casual companionship into something sturdier. but sadly, ray doesn't think the same. and this hurts san the most because he believes ray feels it too— the kisses they shared, the time they spent together, the sex and everything— how can ray not feel it?

ray keeps pushing san away and it tears san into pieces. why can't ray succumb to temptation the way san falls for ray? why can't ray accept san for who he is and stop chasing after someone else? aren't both of them hungry for something similar— love?

next part: boston as envy, nick as lust and namchueam as wrath (?)

in the next part, i'll talk about boston, nick and a little bit of namchueam. i'll also conclude this discussion by rounding all seven characters as the seven deadly sins in the next post.

[side note: i just realised i can only put 30 photos per post. that's why I have to split this into two. hehe]

[1 | 2 | 3 | 4 (i) | 4 (ii) | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12]

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tabsters · 2 months ago

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The Twelve Days of Zodiacs - Day 5

"On the fifth day of Christmas, my Zodiacs gave to me, Five ugly sweaters, Four wrapped presents, Three snowmen, Two bread rolls, And a snowball fight under a tree."

it should be noted that this story is in a modern AU, aka an AU where no magic exists. everyone is just normal and untraumatized! the modern AU names for the characters are listed below:

TZE! Gemini: Hannah TZE! Scorpio: Sera TZE! Aries: Alex TZE! Leo: Leo TZE! Lacerta: Lacy (mentioned) TZE! Delphinus: Delphi (mentioned) TZE! Sagittarius: Will (mentioned)

tagging @mythicalmagical-monkeyman @hyperfixation-tangentopia @maiawhimsicalt @sweet-star-cookie

next chapter is here!

“Thank you for taking me to the mall!” Cassie said as Ciara’s dad drove into the parking lot. The man smiled as he parked the car, stepping out and pulling Cassie’s door open for her.

“It’s no problem at all.” He was a short man, with dark red hair and a sprinkling of freckles across his face. Ciara said that he worked as a daycare teacher, and Cassie could definitely see it. “We’re very glad that Ciara’s making some more friends.”

Sera, who was coming along on their mall trip, stepped out of the car as well, holding Ciara’s bag for her. “Such a gentleman,” Ciara quipped.

“Mm.” Sera only nodded, handing her bag back. “Cassie, you mentioned that you needed to do some Christmas shopping?”

“Oh! Yes!” Cassie rummaged through her bag, making sure that she had her possessions. “I have my own money, though, you don’t need to worry.”

“What do you do?” Ciara’s dad—Mr. Alejandro—asked as they walked into the mall. Ciara let out a loud sigh of relief as they stepped into the heated rooms. “Dog walking? Pet sitting?”

“Better to ask what Cassie doesn’t do,” Ciara laughed, and Cassie blushed. “Anyway, where to first?”

“I saw a really stupid ugly sweater in one of the stores’ websites,” Sera began to say, before getting cut off by one of Ciara’s long, drawn-out groans.

“It’s a family tradition,” Mr. Alejandro said at Cassie’s questioning look. “We dress up in ugly sweaters and take pictures to use for our Christmas cards.”

“I love it,” Sera said cheerfully, the most emotion Cassie had seen from him. “You all look so stupid and you all look so funny.”

“Lacy and Delphi certainly seem to think so,” Ciara grumbled. “Did you know that your friends made last year’s picture of me a meme?”

Sera chuckled, pulling out his phone to show Cassie the aforementioned meme. “Yeah, I was the one who sent them the photo.”

Cassie looked at the picture on Sera’s phone. It was zoomed in on Ciara, who was sitting like a cat, her arms attempting to cover up her ugly sweater. She was pouting, her lower lip stuck out.

“You look cute!” Cassie said, giggling as Ciara recreated the exact same pout in real time. “No, really!”

“Just show us the stupid sweaters,” Ciara sighed, swatting at Sera’s arm.

After an hour of walking around in confused circles (and after getting sidetracked and spending a solid half hour in Barnes and Noble), they finally found the store Sera was talking about.

“They opened very recently,” Sera attempted to defend himself. “They’re a small business.”

“Just admit you got lost.” Ciara pointed at one of the mannequins, who was in fact wearing an ugly sweater. It had a giant reindeer with lights strewn all over its antlers. “That one would be good for you, my dearest brother.”

“I already have my sweater,” Sera said proudly. “It has Santa falling into a snowdrift. My boyfriend gave it to me as an early present.”

“Good God, not again,” Ciara said. Mr. Alejandro patted her on the shoulder, possibly offering his condolences to his daughter. "You and Hannah, always talking about great your partners are."

"If Alex ever ends up confessing to Will, you're doomed, Ciara." Sera stuck his tongue out, walking into the store.

"I don't think I could take it if all three of your siblings started dating," Mr. Alejandro stage-whispered out of the side of his mouth. Both Cassie and Ciara laughed.

They walked through the store, trying to figure out which sweaters would look good for each of Ciara's family members. Ciara vehemently denied the idea that any sweater would look good on her.

"It's for the bit, Ciara," Cassie said, holding up a sweater that had Santa stuck in the chimney of a house, his legs flailing in the air. "Commit to the bit!"

"I've been committing to the bit since I was seven," Ciara complained loudly. She nudged her father in the side, startling him. "This guy and Mom thought it was a good idea as a family bonding activity when I first got adopted. And then we just never stopped."

"We were doing it before we got you!" Mr. Alejandro protested. He scrolled through his phone, showing Cassie a picture of him and a woman. Both were dressed in ugly sweaters, and the photo dated back to ten years ago. "Your mother and I have been doing it ever since we started dating!"

"That's your mother?!" Cassie asked, mouth falling open in shock. The woman was ethereally beautiful, with her black hair falling over one shoulder in one long plait. Her dark skin was dusted with gold glitter around her cheeks, and her smile was infectious. She somehow made the ugly sweater look like high fashion. "Is she a model?"

"Real estate agent." Ciara tapped her mother's face. "She's the breadwinner of this family. Dad's the trophy husband."

"And I'm perfectly happy being your mother's trophy husband!"

"SHIT!" Sera came rushing back towards them, a panicked look on his face. "Guys, hide me!"

He then proceeded to duck behind all three of them. This was a mostly unsuccessful task, as he was tall and lanky, and could not be easily hidden.

"What are you hiding from?" Cassie asked the man, who was now trying to see if he could make a mad dash towards the exit. She looked around. The store seemed devoid of any imminent danger.

"Ah, shit," Ciara said. "It's his ex."

"Which one?" Mr. Alejandro asked.

"How many does he have?" Cassie asked, bewildered.

Ciara actually began counting them out on her fingers. "There was the guy who was really into Call of Duty, the genuinely shitty one, the really pretty blind girl, the girl that helps out at the bookshop on the corner of—"

"It's Leo," Sera finally hissed out.

"Ah." Mr. Alejandro nodded in understanding. "But I thought you two were on decent terms?"

"Then he dated Hannah, and now we're not on decent terms!" Sera whisper-shouted. "I may or may not have given him a failed shovel talk."

"He dated you and your sister?" Cassie asked, getting more confused by the second.

"He dated Sera, Hannah, and Alex, but I think that last one was a dare." Ciara sighed, rubbing her temple. "Or a result of spin the bottle. I forgot."

"Who cares—he's here, he's in my vicinity, can we please get out—"

"Sera!" A loud voice said before Sera could finish. "I didn't expect to see you here!"

The speaker was a tall—taller than Sera, surprisingly—man with tanned skin and bleached blonde hair. He was wearing a golden fur coat, the fur looking remarkably like lion fur. He flicked his sunglasses up to his forehead, revealing golden contacts. A sun necklace jangled around his neck.

"Hi, Ciara," Leo said, holding up his hand for a high-five. Ciara had to jump up to slap his hand. "Mr. Ramirez. And...who's this?"

"This is my friend," Ciara said, gesturing to Cassie. "Cassie, this is...uh, well, he used to be the head of the theater club in middle school."

"I'm her mentor!" Leo said cheerfully, patting Ciara on the head. "What are y'all shopping for?"

"Ah, well, we were looking for ugly sweaters, for our family tradition," Mr. Alejandro said, playing mediator. He cast a wary glance to his son, who was trying to sneak his way out of the store. "But I believe we're just about finished."

"I can help!" Leo punctuated his words with a couple of pats to Ciara's head. "Sera knows that I have an excellent taste in fashion.

All of them looked towards Sera, waiting for his judgment. The boy sighed, trudging over to join the group.

"I don't get why you needed a theater club. There was already a theater class." Sera flicked Leo on the shoulder. Leo just smiled. Cassie distantly thought that they didn't look like they were on such bad terms.

"It was for theater enthusiasts like me and your sister!" Leo walked leisurely through the store, pulling sweaters seemingly at random off the shelves and depositing them in Ciara's arms. "Those that appreciate the art of acting."

"I'm in theater!" Cassie piped up. "Tech theater, though. Actors have too many lines to memorize."

"And without techies like you, we wouldn't be able to put on such a good show," Leo said, patting Cassie on the shoulder. "Theater is a collaborative art form!"

Sera sighed some more, probably at the fact that his ex was swooping in and stealing his spotlight.

They found four good sweaters for the other members of their family: a green sweater with a 3-D Christmas tree for Ciara's mom, a red sweater with an enormous Rudolph on it for Ciara's dad, a darker red sweater that said "ON THE NAUGHTY LIST" for Alex, and a white sweater with the words "ELVES MUST STOP CRYING BEFORE RETURNING TO WORK" for Hannah.

"Ciara should wear this one!" Leo held up a red sweater with three cats on it, under the words 'Have a Meow-y Christmas!'. Leo held the sweater up to Ciara, who scowled.

"No, this one," Sera said, pulling a blue sweater with a pixelated Mario out of the pile. "She likes Mario more than she likes cats. Right, Ciara?"

Ciara looked between the two boys, seemingly unsure on whose opinion she should go with. She glanced back at Cassie with an expression that seemed to say 'HELP'.

Admittedly, it seemed like the two boys were having a silent contest over which one of them Ciara liked better. Cassie was inclined to be on Sera's side, because something about Leo seemed a bit...off. She wasn't quite sure what it was.

"I think the Mario one looks nice!" Cassie said, stepping in between the two. "Maybe you can give the cat one to someone else."

Leo made a sound of faux disappointment, before putting his sweater back into the box. "Alright, alright. I see I'm outnumbered."

"Ha!" Sera said in triumph, pumping his fist into the air. "I win. Let's go to check out."

Ciara groaned some more, shoving the pile of sweaters into her father's hands. Leo raised his hands in surrender before ruffling Ciara's hair and walking away.

"See you around, Ciara," He said, smiling at her. He looked towards Cassie. "And nice meeting you, Cassie."

Sera crossed his arms behind his back, looking towards Cassie as well.

His eyes said what he could not: Thank you.

check out @sweet-star-cookie's starglass zodiac lore if you liked this!! questions about my lore are greatly appreciated!!

#oc #ocs #zodiac #zodiacs #zodiac sign #zodiac signs #zodiac lore #zodiac oc #zodiac ocs #12 days of christmas #12 days of zodiacmas

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strawwritesfic · 2 years ago

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Thor Odinson x Pregnant!Female!Reader: Where Gods Do Fear to Tread [Ch. 7]

Summary: You never imagined that shadow of death would be quite so dark.

Challenge: “9 Months” challenge by crackleviolet on Lunaescence Archive – Bonus Three – Rape Pregnancy

Rating/Warnings/Tags: M (rape (not written out in detail, but the first chapter goes up to the event and the rest of the chapters deal with the fallout); assault and battery; abusive relationship; stalking; pregnancy resulting from rape; victim blaming insinuations from various characters; discussion of abortion; references to depression; references to rape kits; references to law procedures; references to restraining orders, some foul language; not Infinity War compliant; not Thor Ragnarok compliant; set post-Ant-Man and the Wasp; Hope & Reader friendship; the Pyms as Reader’s second family)

IMPORTANT NOTE: Thor is not the character involved in any of the awful things warned about above. Additionally, if there is anything you’d like me to add to the tag list, please let me know!

Pairings: Thor/Female!Reader; Scott/Hope; Hank/Janet; past!Male!OC/Reader

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List

Chapter 7: Surprise!

Night had fallen by the time you reentered your house after what seemed to be an endless day. Only the streetlamp on the distant sidewalk illuminated the ghostly shapes of sheet-covered furniture in your living room and the neat stacks of boxes that sat every few feet along your route. You did not bother to flick on an overhead light to illuminate the winding path. None were needed; the sound of conversation and the warm glow issuing from the one occupied room in your house sufficed to guide you safely to the kitchen.

"Sustenance has arrived!" Thor boomed as he followed you through the open door.

What had once been the most terrifying place in the world to you no longer had any room at all to contain fear. The dining room table had been pulled to the center of the tile, but even that could not contain all the people inside. Your usual four chairs couldn't either. Some people stood as a result. Some had pulled in chairs from other rooms. Everyone was there, however: Hank, Janet, Hope, Scott, and Cassie looked up at your arrival. The first rose to pull some of the pizza boxes from Thor's arms.

"It's about damn time," Hank grumped as he placed them on the counter by the sink and pulled one open. "The doorbell rang twenty minutes ago. We'll be lucky if anything's still warm."

"They still have a working oven if we need it, dear," Janet said.

"And if we do, I offer my apologies," said Thor, placing the remaining boxes near the oven. "The delivery man is an Avengers fan. [Name] and I had to convince him to take money in exchange for his goods and services."

"Wait. You're telling me people give you guys free stuff?" asked Scott.

"They often try. Of course, it is improper for heroes such as ourselves to accept such lavish gifts."

"Wow."

Scott's awed tone caused Hope to roll her eyes at you behind his back. You couldn't exactly blame her. Thor could easily afford to reject free food from his admirers when it wasn't his money being spent. He probably didn't even know what an American twenty-dollar bill looked like. Since the last thing you wanted was to get Hank started on a rant about Tony Stark's refusal to pay Avengers like employees, though, you kept your mouth shut and joined the line for dinner.

A tickling at your side made you look up. Now Hope stood right next to you.

"Just how many pictures did he insist on before he left?" she asked, voice low enough to go unheard above Hank and Thor's continued quarrel.

"Too many," you said tiredly.

"Poor thing. Your ankles must be killing you."

"They're not feeling great."

She took you by the shoulders and forcibly turned you toward the table. "Go sit down. I'll bring your food over."

You couldn't muster up any energy to argue with her. Bobbing up and down like a half-deflated balloon, you dragged your swollen body over to one of the now-empty kitchen chairs. There you collapsed, grateful to have just a moment to rest. Packing up your entire house in one day would have been a tall order when you weren’t in your final trimester—not that any of your friends had let you do much of anything since you were. How you could be so exhausted after so little work, you had no idea. And yet you were that exhausted. Somehow you must have fallen asleep in the midst of all the commotion. A hand on your shoulder had you starting awake only a few minutes later.

“It’s just me,” said Hope. “I brought you some food.”

In fact, she had. She slid a plate with three slices of your favorite pizza in front of you. Forgetting that you’d hardly done anything that day demanding that level of caloric intake, you snatched up the first slice and stuffed half of it in your mouth before Hope could sit down next to you. “I’m glad to see you’ve still got your appetite after everything that’s been going on,” she said.

“Indeed! My [Name] must keep her strength up for her upcoming labor!”

Thor sat down on your other side just in time to put his own two cents into the conversation. His own plate overflowed with pizza. He must have had the equivalent of at least one entire pie stacked there. Well, you’d ordered as much as you had partially because you knew how much food Thor could put away. You also knew he’d try to get you to eat some of it as well. When the doctor said you were eating for two, Thor took that comment seriously—and Asgardian babies, apparently, needed a lot of sustenance.

Cassie trotted over to one of the vacant chairs. As soon as she spotted Thor’s mountain of food, her eyes grew huge. “Woah! Is that how you became so mighty? If I eat that much pizza, will I be mighty, too?”

“You’ll probably get pretty big, Peanut,” her father said as he, too, joined your group at the table. “But I don’t think pizza will make you strong.”

“Pizza is not the necessary ingredient, little one! I am sure you already mighty for your size. If you keep working, one day you could even be worthy enough to pick up my hammer.” Thor gestured at the nearby corner. There sat Mjolnir, safely out of the way of anyone’s path.

Her eyes went even wider. “But pizza won’t make me less worthy?” “Eat as much pizza as your heart desires. Why, I eat pizza regularly and remain worthy to this day!”

Cassie grinned. Then she dove into her own meal. You noticed, however, that she kept watching Thor, and seemed to be doing her best to keep up with him as he ate.

For a little while, no one spoke. The entire group focused more on eating than on talking. It had been a long, busy day. You didn’t appreciate this moment of respite as much at the first. All the quiet served to remind you that this sort of gathering would never happen again, or at least if it did, it wouldn’t be the same. All of a sudden, you weren’t ready to face that. Every person you cared about sat in your kitchen that night. In a few days’ time, you’d be eating your meals with Thor’s friends, who, while undoubtedly good people, weren’t your friends. Only now had it really occurred to you that in leaving this house, you weren’t only giving up your beloved gardens and a job you didn’t care for much to begin with.

“Hey, [Name],” Cassie’s voice interrupted your gloomy thoughts. “You’ll be back for my soccer finals, right? We just made the playoffs yesterday!”

Hope didn’t give you a chance to answer yourself. She took Cassie’s nearest hand in hers and said, “It’s going to be hard for [Name] to travel until she has the baby.”

Cassie looked at you, crestfallen. “But you’re traveling to New York this weekend.”

“That sort of travel can’t be helped,” said Hope.

“If I can be there for your tournament, I will,” you assured Cassie, then added at Hope’s stern look, “I’ve been assured that the Bifrost is perfectly safe for unborn babies. As long as I’m not actually in labor when I use it, I should be fine.”

“So long as Kevin does not attempt to attend the event as well,” Thor said.

Hank, standing over by the sink with his wife, snorted. “Trust me. If that jackass dares to get anywhere within my line of sight, he’ll regret it.”

“Thank you, Dr. Pym.”

The sincerity in Thor’s voiced only made Hank shrug awkwardly. He wouldn’t meet Thor’s eyes or yours.

Janet stroked his shoulder. “You’re going to miss, [Name], aren’t you? We’re all going to.” She looked over at you. “You’re part of the family.”

Those words were like a dagger to your heart. Tears filled your eyes as you slowly rose to your aching feet and made your way over to where she and Hank stood. Still avoiding looking directly at you, the latter removed his glasses and sniffed. Another jolt in your stomach accompanied your realization that Hank’s eyes were wet, too.

“Hank, I’ll be back,” you said.

“Sure you will. That’s why you’re moving all the way across the country.”

“I’m moving all the way across the country because of Kevin.”

“No, you’re moving to be with the Avengers. You don’t trust us to keep you safe.”

You could have laughed at that, had there not been a gigantic, Thor-sized frog in your throat. “Hank, you’re retired. You’ve just got Janet and Hope back. I don’t want you wasting your time keeping me safe when there’s an AI in New York that can make sure I never see Kevin again.”

“She’s right, darling,” said Janet. “And you’ll come visit us, won’t you, [Name]? After all the dust has settled?”

“Of course I will. Janet’s right, Hank. You all are my family. And this little guy is going to want to see his grandparents.”

Through you fully anticipated a pause after this announcement, you had not expected it to be quite so long and thorough. Every single mouth in the room gaped at you—except for Thor’s, obviously. He’d known you were going to tell everyone about your plans this evening from the beginning.

“Grandparents?” Hank croaked.

“That’s right. Thor and I went to see the doctor this week for an ultrasound. I’m having a boy. We’ve decided to keep him and raise him as ours.”

“Kevin,” Thor said, “will have nothing to do with the baby. That is also one of the reasons for our moving. Though [Name] prevailed in obtaining protection from the court, that protection is only a piece of paper. We want to ensure the child will never have contact with Kevin.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, [Name]! Congratulations!” Janet threw her arms around you.

Hank still seemed too stunned to speak. In the vacuum of his shock, Scott, Hope, and Cassie came over to the sink as well to offer congratulations and hugs.

“I was hoping you’d be his godmother,” you told Hope when she released you.

She didn’t answer. Her eyes flooded with tears to match your own, and then she swept you up in another hug even longer than the last. This embrace only came to an end when Cassie said:

“Does this mean I’m getting a baby brother?”

Hope laughed wetly before turning to the little girl. “Not quite.”

“More like a baby cousin,” said Scott.

“Can I teach him how to play soccer?” Cassie asked.

“Once he’s old enough,” you answered.

“When’s that?”

You opened your mouth to tell not for a few years at least (no matter what Thor might say to the contrary) when Hank straightened and took a step in your direction.

Hope let you go.

“[Name],” Hank began.

He didn’t need to finish. Not wanting to lose your nerve, you wrapped your arms around him, paused, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you, Hank,” you said as you let go of him.

“Harrumph,” he replied. “I’ll never forgive Kevin for what he did to you. But if you’re willing to move on and make the best of a bad situation, well, so am I.” Then he smiled. “You better bring that kid to see me all the time. Don’t you go letting Tony Stark fill his head with the wrong ideas.”

“I promise.”

You and Hank might have continued to smile tearfully at one another for another twenty minutes—or at least until you couldn’t bear standing up any longer—had Janet not suddenly squealed:

“Group hug! Group hug!”

“Wha—”

Too late! Janet interrupted Hank’s protest by way of squishing him between you and herself. Then Hope joined in, followed by Scott, then Cassie, and finally Thor, who practically lifted the whole group into the air together in his enthusiasm to participate.

“Would you kindly put me down?” Hank snapped.

Everyone laughed. Thor obliged as far as placing Hank’s feet back on the ground, but he didn’t let him go.

Warm and held at the very center of the throng, you felt only happiness and relief. No one hated you for your decision to keep the baby. Kevin would never bother you again. And most importantly of all: You weren’t really giving up anything in leaving San Francisco. All you were doing was gaining more time with Thor, and perhaps a few new friends along the way. Heaven knew you’d need a lot to get through the coming years. Fortunately, you knew the Pyms would always be there for you, and Scott and Cassie, no matter how much Thor or Tony Stark they had to endure.

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b-afterhours · 1 year ago

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Avenue of Sins (part ten)

SUMMARY: a story of two misfit kids from mid-west america making it big in the big apple. and in the true sense of the american dream they find themselves in a life of sex, money, drugs, and a little rock n roll too.

WARNINGS: adult content, mature readers only.

if you’re seeing this for the first time you can read part one here and if you need to catch up on previous chapters go here.

series playlist

Author's Note: It's been a long time and I apologize for that completely. I guess, there was a massive part of me that didn't want to let these characters go. But enough time has passed and it's finally time. If you choose to finish this little story of mine after all this time, thank you so much! Cheers. (An epilogue should follow shortly.)

Special thanks to @soohaaaleemeee for the encouragement ♡

_________________________________________________

Bill swayed, stumbling the same way he would when he met the bottom of a bottle of Jim Beam, he caught his step after being pushed off center by Alma. Once on even footing he stood there, the sound of the slamming door in his face was still fresh, ringing in his ears along with the thumping bass of the DJ’s speakers. He lifted a booted foot from the floor for only a moment before setting it back down, straining against the need to go after Alma. To tell her he was sorry, but no. This was in his plan. He had been rehearsing this in his head for weeks and he had to perfectly execute the mental bullet list he had made for this very night. Once again, he plucked a cigarette from his diminishing pack and tossed it to the coffee table to his right. Lighting it, he looked out the floor-to-ceiling two-way mirrors toward the stage and saw a bare-chested Chastity lightly coming to her feet from a perfect spin around the pole. This was her last dance of the night meaning there were only a handful of dancers left with the night’s finale ending with Cooch. Taking a glance at his wristwatch he saw that there was still an hour and a half before the club closed. He felt his original plans changing as time felt it was closing in on him suddenly.

As he puffed away at his cigarette, he realized that he had to have Craig meet in his loft a bit before closing. He figured it’d be too weird to have him stay behind considering he wasn’t part of the group who stayed after hours. He didn’t think that part through enough. He had missed some finer details, dwelling too much on how to get Alma out of the picture. Although he was successful at getting rid of her, he was now stuck deliberating on how he could fix what he had done rather than the task at hand. She was right, right about a lot of things but he couldn’t admit to that. He imagined going back home alone, finding it empty, void of Alma’s presence that he loved being around so much. It pained him to think about but also he felt he deserved it. He couldn’t imagine she’d see him the same after their confrontation, much less be around someone who she thought didn’t love her.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette as he approached the cabinet near the back of the loft. That, not only housed his weathered leather moto jacket – of which he rummaged the inner pocket for a three-ounce bag – but also provided a cover for his secret cash safe. The three-ounce stash of cocaine was cut from the kilo Alvin had recently delivered two weeks earlier than usual to keep up with demand. Bringing it over to his desk and taking a seat he produced from a drawer the mirror tray Myrna would use to roll her joints on. He sliced the bag open with the switchblade he kept in his back pocket as the cigarette perched on his lips burned into the filter. The avalanche of white powder spilled onto the tray concealing his reflection in the mirror that frankly, he’d rather not face anyway. He tossed the cigarette onto the clean ground, leaving it to burn out on its own. Taking the razor blade that always accompanied the tray, he gave the powder a rough chop before dipping his switchblade in, inhaling several substantial bumps from the uncut supply. It was overkill even for a man his size but he wanted the laser focus only narcotics could give him.

The acrid taste of it dripped from his nasal passage down to his throat as he wiped his nose as he descended the stairs leading out the loft. Queenie waved at him as he approached the bar and without having been told to, she grabbed a glass, adding a perfect large crystalline square of ice inside, and poured his favorite bourbon in, a little over two fingers full.

“Good to see ya Boss,” she said to him as she neatly placed the glass above a white paper napkin and pushed it toward him.

“Everything going well?” He asked before she had the chance to move on to a paying customer.

“Yeah, like always! It’s pretty busy tonight, you know.” She was anxious to help assist Praline and Raven who were falling behind without Alma being around to help.

“I won’t hold you up,” Bill assured. “I just wanted to ask if you could lock up the register tonight? Echo wasn’t feeling well so we’re not bagging it in tonight. Could you do that for me?”

“Okay, Echo’s shown me once after that time she had that really bad flu last Winter. Is she sick? I hope not but I noticed she didn’t look too good since the other night.”

Bill nodded appreciatively, “Right, something like that. Thanks.” He tipped his glass to her before taking a hard swallow.

He sat there for a bit, drinking his bourbon and watching over the bar while not making it overtly obvious that he was scoping Craig out as the minutes ticked. He glanced at his watch again and frowned.

“Hey. Craig,” he said, catching him just before he ducked off into the store room. “I need to talk to you about the job.”

“Are you firing me?” He said jokingly, pointing at his chest.

“I got a beep from your Cousin Joey. He wants to talk to both of us.”

“Well shit,” he said, not thrilled with the news. Talking had a lot of meanings for the Russos. “Can I finish up?”

“Quick. We’ll go up to the loft together when you finish up,” he said, sliding his empty glass toward him to clean.

…

Alma was on the road with Rashad, her head hung low and cupped in her hands. She had been crying, sobbing, and blubbering previously and now she sat there embarrassed and foolish as she tried to catch her breath. Rashad tried his best to console her but wasn’t getting through so instead he turned the radio on to drown her out. She peered up a bit and saw she was close to being dropped off and sat up. The pit in her belly weighed heavily, unsure of what to do once she stepped through the threshold of her shared home with Bill. Was she really going to leave? What would Bill do if he came back home and she was there? She feared he would be mad but she knew he probably wouldn’t be. But she was so angry, she was certain that if she saw him again she could only imagine wanting to punch him for being a stubborn asshole.

She sniffed and wiped her nose with the inside of her halter dress smudging her dark red lipstick in the process. It was then she noticed her hands were stained with black mascara and liner liquefied by her tears. She quickly pulled the visor down and met her inky vacant eyes staring back at her in the mirror. Quickly, she tried to rub it away with the back of her hand slightly lessening the ghoulishness around her eyes. She sighed, even if her makeup were perfect she couldn’t imagine feeling any better about herself. Flipping the visor up, she turned her head down the road Rashad was supposed to turn.

“Hey,” she sniffled. “I’m back that way.”

Rashad just nodded looking forward, he turned his blinker on to satiate her for a moment before turning it off instead of taking the next right.

“What are you doing?”

“I was told to take you elsewhere,” he shrugged.

Alma shook her head baffled by his indifference and unable to comprehend what he meant. “Elsewhere? Who?”

He reached for the radio and turned the volume down. “Miss Echo,” he sighed. “I don’t want to be here either but Bill told me to take you out of the city for the night.”

“What the fuck!? Take me where Rashad?!”

“He just said to take the Lincoln Tunnel outta here and find a place to stay and that there’s cash in the glove compartment for it.”

Alma quickly opened the glove compartment in front of her where there was most certainly a handsome wad of cash inside. “What is he doing,” she mumbled to herself while pushing her hair out of her face. Her mind was racing trying to figure out Bill's mind and what exactly his plans truly were.

She turned her head to look out the back window, seeing that she was moving farther and farther away from where she needed to be. Bill had pushed her out and she knew better than to put herself back in his presence but something didn’t feel right. She reeled back in thought, surprised Bill had done such a wonderful job of involving her and yet kept her in the dark just enough to have all the control of the situation at hand. She didn’t think he would have the balls to run behind her back, it just wasn’t him to keep her in the dark. Yet she was in his car, having Rashad drive her to Jersey to stay at a random trucker motel overnight. He was creating an alibi for her to take whether she liked it or not. If shit went bad at Trigger Finger he could lie on her behalf and she wouldn’t be an accessory to his crimes. However, his belief that things could go wrong enough that he curated an out for her only served to further worry her.

“Stop!”

“Miss Echo I can’t,” Rashad said apologetically.

“Stop the car! Now!” She said leaning into his ear. “Rashad, I’m begging you! I’m begging you! Just stop the damn car!” She pleaded.

Rashad shook his head. He was an even-tempered man even with being part of a pack of cutthroat security, he never liked to put himself in the middle of trouble if he didn’t absolutely have to.

“Listen,” she said, sitting back in her seat trying to seem even-keeled. “I just want to go home and pack my shit. Bill and I, we got in a fight earlier and we’re done, okay? Just stop the car, tell him whatever you want about me when you bring the car back tomorrow. I don’t care. He knows how big of a bitch I am. He'll believe you. Just pull over, please...” she said, reaching her hand onto his gripping the steering wheel.

He finally peered at her, feeling sorry for her. Loosening his grip from the steering wheel he took in a deep breath and pulled over to the curb once he was given the chance.

Alma was practically scrambling out of her seat once he did. “Thank you! Just do as he said and go. If you turn around now, he’ll come looking for me. I need a little time to get my shit straight at home.”

“Fine. Right, okay,” he said defeated yet inside he was grateful to be out from between whatever lovers spat Bill and Alma had going on.

“You’re a good man, Rashad.”

She closed the door behind her and Rashad made his way to New Jersey without her. Jogging across the street, it took a few cabs whizzing past her to finally find one willing to stop. The cabbie asked her for directions and when she mentioned Trigger Finger, he grimaced and turned his head around to take a look at the patron he had boarded on and turned around shaking his head disapprovingly.

…

In the loft Craig sat on the other side of Bill at his desk, the fluorescent lights above them humming and although Bill was dealing with the phone he couldn’t take his eyes off the mound of coke on the tray in front of his boss. What he didn’t know was that Bill wasn’t dialing his cousin’s number but his house phone, leaving a phony message for the answering machine.

“He should get back to us,” Bill told Craig as he hung up.

“You have any idea what he wanted?”

Bill dug around in his drawer for a stray pack of smokes and shrugged. “Nope, you know your cousins. You’ve been paying them right? Your earnings from barbacking here?” He said, lighting his cigarette.

Craig watched wondering if he’d offer him a smoke but he didn’t. “I mean, yeah of course but it’s only gonna take me a damn life time man.”

“Right,” he said, taking a deep drag before huffing the smoke through his nose.

Craig could tell he was tense about something as he watched him close his eyes and rub the bridge of his nose. He saw how Alma bolted out of the loft and out the back entry of the club, he figured they had some kind of fight. He squirmed in his seat hoping his cousin would call back quickly, he didn’t want to be alone with Bill for any longer than he had to.

“Don’t ask me for any blow unless you’re paying,” Bill said to him.

Craig hadn’t noticed that he was staring at the mound of powder in deep thought until Bill spoke.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Oh, nothing just hoping my cousin doesn’t bitch me out once he calls.”

“Mhmm.”

There was an uncomfortable air of tension slowly filling the room that Craig couldn’t explain. Everything in his gut was telling him to get out of the loft but he felt glued to his seat at the same time.

“Since we’re here we should kill some time right?” Bill began. “Earlier, I saw something I didn’t really like and I just want to know what you said to my girl?”

“What? Bill, I-”

“Now you don’t have to lie to me. I remember the things Kansas told me you said to her and I’m just praying to God you didn’t say some shit like that to Alma.”

“Bill, you’re her man you’ve got to know the things we-”

Bill raised his brow, “We?”

“C’mon man, you know her better than anyone. You know how she can be?” Craig began to nervously bounce his knee hoping the phone would ring.

Bill looked away, taking a drag again trying to keep himself from exploding angrily. He shook his head, stamping out the rest of the cigarette on his desk, and stood up.

“It was probably my fuckin’ fault right?” Bill said to himself as he walked around his desk and slipped his hands in his trouser pockets. Craig pushed away from the desk worried for a moment before Bill leaned on the corner beside him. “But I gave you fuckin’ rules when you first started here. I don’t give a fuck about how Alma ‘can be’ and if you say some shit like that about her I-”

“Dude, alright I don’t want any problems okay… But I don’t think you being this angry is fair. You’ve been all over my girl before she fucked off out of my life ‘cause of you! Only fair if I got a piece off your –'' He had hardly got the words out when suddenly he felt a fist hit the side of his head. “Yo! What the FUCK!?”

Reacting he lunged from his chair tackling Bill down from the waist causing him to hit his head on the floor. He was stunned and pissed that the punch that he delivered was not one of his best. Trying to blink his vision back into focus he felt Craig connect a punch to his chin. A fistfight wasn’t in his plans but now Craig suddenly had the upper hand.

…

“Sir? Could you go a little faster? I have some business to handle,” she said to the cabbie as she anxiously patted around her bra for the little baggie of coke she knew she had.

“Almost, almost.” The man muttered.

She found her baggy, frowning at how little powder was in the bag. She carefully ripped the bag along its seams until it was just a flat piece of thin pink plastic and hastily dipped her nose in snorting all that was left before popping the plastic in her mouth to get all she could from it.

“Hey! Don’t do that junkie shit in my car!” The cabbie said to her with furious eyes looking at her in the rearview mirror.

“Relax man! It’s not dope,” she said with a tingling, numb tongue throwing the plastic out the cracked window and noticing the familiar buildings close to her destination. “Could you go a little faster will you?”

“I don’t care what the hell it is!” He continued.

“Stop right here then, you dick!” She said being able to see the cross streets she needed him to turn to. “I can walk faster than how you’re fucking driving!”

Before he could tell her that she must pay the fare before getting out, dollar bills were hastily thrown through the partition window. The cabbie was more than happy to get the junkie girl he had taken a chance on out of his car. He watched her stop in front of his car judging the traffic before running across miraculously making it safely. He shook his head, she looked about the same age as his daughter who was in law school. As he drove on he decided to retire for the night and said a silent prayer for the lost girl.

…

The friction of her heels rubbing on the soft skin of her foot stung as she booked it down the block to Trigger Finger but she didn’t stop. It felt like she couldn’t if she tried, her adrenaline was pumping but the fear pitted in her stomach was still there. She had no clue of what time it was exactly but there were hardly any cars on the block it seemed. Close to the doors, she heard a voice halting her steps and startling her.

It was Cooch. She watched Alma standing at the club's entrance out of breath disheveled like she’d never seen her before, not even after one of her benders. She opened her mouth to ask her if she was okay but the club doors opened behind her and when Alma spun around she noticed the skin on the back of her heels was bleeding. Theo had walked out to lock up, surprise on his face meeting Alma outside.

“I’ll lock up Theo.” Cooch heard Alma say walking passed him.

“Hey,” Theo said to her softly. “I’ll be back later alright.”

Alma nodded, locking the doors behind her and taking a few breaths leaning against the door and kicking her heels off. The muscles of her feet ached as they came flat to the ground. She looked up towards the loft, bracing herself for just a moment before jogging across the establishment and up the stairs to Bill's loft office. She felt dread as she approached, a sick feeling in her stomach she nearly hesitated to turn the knob until she heard a commotion inside.

She was blinded by the bright fluorescent lighting, blinking a moment to adjust her eyes and she finally saw Craig on top of Bill on the ground. He had a hold of Bill's wrist trying to get his grip loosened away from the gun he was holding.

“Get the fuck off him!” Alma screamed.

The men paused for a moment, becoming fully aware that they had company. Distracted and confused as to why Alma was back, Bill took a punch square in the nose and the image of Alma went to black. Quickly, Craig was on his feet taking the opportunity to kick the gun out of Bill’s hand. It slid to the wall opposite of them bouncing slightly off the wall and near Alma now. She looked at Craig who was inching towards her and looked down at the gun.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said to her. His lip was fat and his eye was blackening underneath his dark lashes. “What the fuck is going on?!”

Alma stepped back only to feel the coldness of the window behind her and nowhere to go. She glanced at the gun again and back to Craig’s glaring, stern eyes. He was going to hurt her that much she could tell and suddenly her body reacted and as she lunged for the gun he caught her by just a grip of her hair, snapping her head back and into his presence. Up close, his eyes were full of rage and then she knew for certain that he was going to kill her, or worse...

“You got your fuckin’ deadbeat boyfriend to kick my ass, huh?” He said cradling her cheek with his free hand. “Why didn’t you tell him how good I made you feel instead, huh?”

Alma struggled against him and in doing so she was able to get a look past him only to see that Bill was still unconscious on the floor.

“Let go of me,” she bit back.

“Shh,” he said, sliding his hand from her cheek to her neck. “We don’t want to wake him from his little nap now do we?”

She felt a sick chill run up her spine. His eyes were darkened and unreadable but his touch, although rough, felt more unpredictable. His hand slid down her neck and before he could touch her breasts, she kicked his knee in. As he buckled he took her down with him. His grip on the back of her neck never lessened and he managed to turn causing her to take his fall instead. The wind knocked out of her. Under his weight she tried to kick herself from under him, her arms reaching above her head, hands sweeping the floor hoping the gun she tried to dodge for was close by. Craig grabbed at them restraining her arms to her side where he strongly held them in with one of his knees pinning her left hand to the floor. She screamed from the pain of his weight on them.

“Were you gonna shoot me?” Craig darkly chuckled as his flat palm struck her cheek.

Alma’s right ear rang from the strike. She kicked her legs again to get out from under him, her hips lifting from the ground as she did so with more force.

“Just get the fuck off me,” she said through he teeth.

“Or what? I got you both where I want you, especially you,” he said ducking down towards her ear. She felt sick feeling his breath on her ear and lips grazing her jaw.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her legs to kick with more strength. She planted a sore foot on the ground pushing off as hard as she could to slip her body forward enough to get her right hand free while trapped between his knees. She immediately went to jab at his enraged hazel eyes causing him to ease his grip over her body to block her blow long enough that she was able to twist her body around. With her elbows, she pulled her body forward once again stretching out an arm, straining against the weight of Craig on her legs for the gun just feet away. She felt his fingers raking harshly through her scalp before he grasped her hair again, yanking her head back brutally. Quickly, she brought her hands to her face before he could smash her head on the floor, yet her nose left unprotected crunched when it met the epoxy floor. He grunted in frustration, yanking her head back once again and placing his free hand on her throat, squeezing. Alma brought her hands to the one blocking her lungs from catching a breath scratching and digging her nails into the flesh of his hand but he gripped harder. She felt her eyes bulge, speckles of black danced around in her vision as she choked.

She could feel her body, once boosted on adrenaline and a sorry bump from her depleted coke baggie, weaken. Her subconscious screaming at her for being foolish, how she could have avoided all of this had she listened for once. Tears escaped her eyes knowing she was meeting her end when suddenly the pressure from her throat released. Her lungs expanded violently seeking oxygen causing her to choke further until they found their rhythm again. Through blurred vision, she could see Bill’s figure connecting fists with Craig. Taking the opportunity, using her hands as a guide she sought for the gun again. The gun came to focus as soon as it was in her hand but the burden of welding it didn’t settle upon her until it was there. She turned towards the fighting men right next to her, who stumbled on their footing by her legs. In a panic her finger hit the trigger, her arm recoiled and sent a bullet through the couch and disappeared into a wall. Everyone in the loft froze, stunned by the noise of the blast.

While he had the chance Bill locked his arm around Craig’s neck, choking him in his rage. Over his disappointment that he couldn’t even kill a man right. That Alma almost died if he hadn’t awoken from his stupor. He gripped tighter on Craig's neck feeling his body weaken. He followed his body down once Craig’s knees gave out, yet still holding on to him. Once Craig’s hands gave up prying his arm off, Bill held him for a moment before pushing his body away, making a loud thump.

On his knees, Bill took a few breaths to collect himself before turning to Alma. She had her hands still covering her ears from the blast of the gun. She looked disoriented, unsure of her own body or surroundings until she felt Bill put his hands under her arms to lift her with the little strength he had left.

“Why?” He said to her, “I didn’t want this to happen.” He frowned looking at the state of her face, a bloody nose and liner smudged under bloodshot eyes that he knew would soon blacken like his.

“He was going to kill you,” her voice rasped. “I had to.”

Bill took a deep breath before reaching down to the ground beside her and picked his gun up. From the very beginning, he should have just shot Craig when he had the chance and avoided all this mess but his jealousy got in the way. He cocked the gun but Alma held on to his arm before he raised it.

“Is he dead,” she asked. “Could you check?”

Bill gulped, swallowing nothing from his dry mouth, and took a few strides toward the body in the center of the room. Kneeling, he put his fingers to his neck checking for a pulse. Nothing. He then put them near Craig’s nose to see if he could feel the heat of an exhale. Nothing.

“It’s done,” he turned to her.

With glassy eyes she stood, holding herself, and nodded. “No gun. No mess.”

…

The Next Evening

Bill awoke to a terrible nightmare, only he wished it was only that. The image of him and Alma wrapping Craig’s cumbersome body in trash bags jolted his sore bruised body up. He didn’t know how he had even managed to have fallen asleep after what had happened. He blinked his eyes a few times and noticed he had passed out on the living room floor of his apartment. He turned his throbbing head to meet Alma’s reddened eyes. Had she gone to bed? He wondered. She looked nearly catatonic with how she sat beside him with her knees to her chest.

“How long?” He wondered how long he had been asleep. His voice was raspy and deeper when he spoke.

“A few hours I guess,” she could only harshly whisper after having been choked out within an inch of her life.

“You sleep?” He frowned when she simply shook her head.

Alma couldn’t get the thought of how they dragged Craig's body to the back door and out in the damp alley where Joey Russo awaited with heavily muscled lackeys who effortlessly picked up the plastic-covered body and tossed it into the trunk of a nondescript car. The sound of his body thudding in particular bothered her. And yet she felt he deserved it in some way but that still didn’t make her feel good about any of it. She watched Bill and Joey shake hands and exchange some words but couldn’t make out anything that was said. All she thought about was maybe she deserved to be in the trunk too.

Though it was slow and arduous they both found themselves in the bathroom taking warm wet washcloths to their faces. Lightly dabbing away the dried and dark crusted blood under their noses. Bill examined his face in the mirror, his nose looked swollen and his right eye was soon to join it. Bill watched Alma in the mirror in front of him and how her eyes watered in frustration as she struggled to even touch her sore face and how her left hand could hardly grasp the cloth.

“I’ll help you,” he said, taking the cloth and running it under the warm water again before taking a corner and lightly pressing it to her nostril. “Sorry,” he said when she winced. “I-I’m so fucking sorry for what happened.” He choked back the lump forming in his throat.

Alma wanted to speak but even that was too hard for her. So she reached her good hand to touch his cheek gently.

“I didn’t mean anything that I said before… before you know. I swear.” His eyes began to water. “I tried to keep you safe.”

“I know…” She was able to muster. “I know.”

“I can’t believe he did this to you…” He said tears falling from his eyes. “You weren’t supposed to be there....” He sniffled.

In the beginning, Bill had his doubts about killing Craig he even was a bit remorseful after seeing his body thrown in a car trunk like a sack of shit but right now looking at what he did to Alma, his death felt justified. Her beautiful face was hidden under a veil of black and blue. If he had the energy to be angry he would be.

“I love you.” He said, kissing her forehead. “You know? I really do.” He wanted her to believe it, that he wasn't just saying so because he felt pity for her current state.

Alma blinked back tears and wiped away one of his own with her thumb. The dampness against the dried blood on his cheek streaked together in the motion.

“I know…”

#my bill writings #bill skarsgard #avenue of sins

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adultswim2021 · 1 year ago

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Moral Orel #33: “Innocence” | October 17, 2008 - 12:15AM | S03E03

Season three’s objective is to unpack the events of Nature as well as Clay’s abusive nature. This strips Orel of his Innocence. Hey, that’s the name of this episode.

Was never that big on this one, as it feels like it’s half comedy show/half math problem. A little more interested in answering the question of what the heck was going on at the end of Grounded than it is in being very funny.

Embarrassingly, this lead me to spending most of the time I allocated towards writing this write-up to me sussing out a roughly story-chronological order for the episodes of Moral Orel. As far as I can tell, nobody has really done a scene-by-scene breakdown timeline kinda thing. I didn’t do that. I just listed the episodes and shuffled the order so they’d be less scrambled. It won’t be part of this write-up, because I only like doing things that are a waste of time, and including it would make it technically not.

Okay, so this episode takes place immediately after the School Pageant, which they say was “4 weeks and 1 day ago”. The main, most useful takeaway that I realized here was that the accepted running order of the show is mostly represented on HBOMax, but I think Orel’s Movie Premiere ought to trade places with School Pageant. Apparently they were supposed to air that way but didn’t. School Pageant is the last season two episode to take place before Nature, and some of season three is set in between. Nature parts one and two weigh heaviest on this season, but School Pageant is a pretty close second.

In this one, the adults have a meeting without Orel, after Reverend Putty has the apocalyptic realization that god is mad at Moralton, in part because of the “God I Hate You Jesus” song featured in said School Pageant. There were also the many catastrophes that were brought on by Orel, perhaps acting as a tool of God’s. The parents vow to delay their smiting by not giving Orel anymore advice. Orel, champing at the bit for adultlike sageness, gets pushed from adult to adult, who offer little nuggets here and there after being browbeat by a wisdom-hungry Orel. This causes him to cobble together one of his more disgusting outings (as seen at the beginning of Grounded), which actually did air before this, but I covered it when it aired as part of the April Fools’ stealth premieres.

I get why airing Grounded, a heavier episode that dives a little further into Clay’s abusiveness, after Nature despite it taking place afterwards makes sense. This makes less sense, but it’s ultimately a playful exercise that I’m not terribly mad at. The disastrous moment in time when all of Moralton tried to stop giving Orel advice and failed to thwart a terrible misunderstanding from happening anyway is a decent idea. I just think it gets to a point where it’s just spinning it’s wheels and is just marching adequately towards its conclusion which we already saw.

There is a little bit of foreshadowing for Orel’s teacher, who is seen cutting out a news clipping about a rapist. This is touched on in the upcoming “Alone”, and was meant to pay off in an episode called “Raped”, an unproduced episode that had it’s script leaked. Also worth noting: Jay Johnston is not in this episode, but his characters are, voiced by different people. Scott Adsit voices Coach Stopframe, and David Herman voices Principal Flakey. This is maybe the biggest bummer of the season. I didn’t look that hard, so I did not find a source for this, but I was always under the impression that Jay Johnston similarly didn’t like the direction the show was going in and blew off recording for it. Perhaps he was busy planning a fateful trip to our nation’s capital. Heh, that would be cool :D

44 NIGHTS OF OREL

I'm gonna keep using this picture. It is just too nice not to. These episodes aired before tonight’s episode:

Grounded (official premiere; originally aired stealthily as part of an April Fools stunt)

Loyalty (literally just for the “omelet facemask” joke which is called back in School Pageant)

School Pageant (takes place before Innocence). Innocence (This one!)

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #moral orel

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nyrator · 5 months ago

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hey nyrator! im aware you MAY be inactive, and i hope you really focus on ya mental health and stuff! i just have a small question about yume nikki how-tos ...... nasu. please explain the magic of nasu.

Hello, and thank you~

Yeah, I tend to basically be away from the YN scene for the most part, aha.. A good thing to note is that NASU is mostly Picture events instead of using Chipsets/Charsets, with Variables that determine the location of all the picture sprites depending on the animation or player input. I'm only really going to cover the menus to give a basic idea, but the game itself is essentially a big evolution of that.. more than I think I can explain, aha..

Lots and lots of Picture Events, Variables that determine button pressses/Picture's X and Y coordinates/etc~

From looking at the files, a basic idea of how it works:

Basically, they have an Action Event (the Famicom) which interacting causes the following: (note, the second page is only to prevent access when Mado has a Crick in her neck and instead play a buzzer sound)

Disable button inputs, movement, and menu access

Use Picture events for the graphics (such as the text, the cursor, the logo, and even the character, and move them around however they want to animate them)

The Control Variables (0071 and 0072) are set to determine screen position of the Cursor Picture. 0002 (Key Input A) is reset to zero.

End the event by turning on the Menu On Switch, which triggers the following Parallel Process event on the same map (in the top left corner of the bedroom for Yume Nikki):

So, what do we have going on here? This event is basically the first menu that says "NASU" or "Quit Game".

The Key Input A from earlier is determined like so, so that only the up, down, and select keys work for the cursor, and it waits for the player input:

Now we have a set of Conditional Branches for these Variables, depending on which of these three keys is pressed. If it equals 1 (down) or 4 (up), calls an [S] Event (aka sound effect common event). Then it does another branch: If the Y of the Cursor is at a certain position, it adds or subtracts to move it to the next option, basically. Since there's only two options, it just picks one or the other, and then moves the Cursor Picture.

If it equals 5 (select), it'll do a branch depending on which it's highlighting. The first option is "NASU", the second option is "Quit Game", for reference. If you pick NASU, it'll fade and activate a new Switch. If you pick Quit Game, it essentially removes the photos and gives you control again.

So, what does the Switch do when you hit NASU? It activates an Autorun event.

I think the transitions and such speak for themselves, but the important things:

The player is teleported to a new dedicated game map

The Score Variable (0099) is displayed in a certain position, and the number displayed is determined by a Variable (0087).

Now, this is all just the intro menu... there's so much more than tumblr will let me type (or that I can fully comprehend in one night), but I recommend checking out this map in the files: It should be the second to last one in the list, right above the Ending map. That's where all the NASU magic happens..

#ask #anonymous #yume nikki #rpg maker 2003 #dev help #I forgot how I tagged these~

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alsjeblieft-zeg · 8 months ago

Text

069 of 2024

The Green Survey 💚

by joybucket

1. List three things you can see in the room you're in right now that are green. Boxes with things we sell in our shop, index notes, a "lucky tree" made of little green crystals.

2. What is your favorite Green Day song? Their cover of Working Class Hero, I think they did a very good job with it.

3. What is your favorite shade of green? Neon green, army green, lime green.

4. What is your least favorite shade of green? Sage green.

5. What is your favorite green vegetable? Broccoli.

6. What is your least favorite green vegetable? Spinach.

7. Did you grow up watching Veggie Tales? 🥒🍅 I don't think so. The name doesn't ring the bell.

8. Name someone you know who is vegan. Someone I know online, she makes vegan food and often posts pictures.

9. Would you ever dye your hair green? Why or why not? Yeah, I had green before. I still like unnatural hair colours.

10. Name three people you know who have green eyes. My dad (greenish grey if it counts), my sister (same colour), and one of the doctors at the hospital I go to. Green is pretty rare, you know.

11. Do you have Lyme disease? 🦠 Not that I know of, I hope not.

12. Which of these flavors do you like best: kiwi, lime, or green apple? Kiwi, but it hurts my tongue.

13. Which of these fictional characters do you like best: Kermit the Frog, Gumby, Oscar the Grouch, Frankenstein, or Larry the Cucumber? I'm only familiar with Kermit, so Kermit by default.

14. What was the last time you ate that was green? Broccoli, long ago.

15. What was the last thing you drank that was green? Some kind of juice, I think kiwi.

16. When was the last time you sat in the grass? Also long time ago. It triggers my allergies.

17. What are three of your favorite things you own that are green? One cargo pants (emerald green, goes well with black),

18. Would you rather celebrate Christmas or St. Patrick's Day? Christmas is the one we celebrate here.

19. What is your favorite type of tree? Pine tree, birch, linden tree.

20. Do you take medicine for nausea every day? No, but I have some motilium just in case I feel nauseous, so I don't vomit my medication (not like it happens anyway, I rarely feel nauseous at all).

22. Are you wearing anything green right now, and if so, what? No, but I had a mint green t-shirt with Marie from The Aristocats before.

23. Do you know anyone who can do a perfect impression of Kermit the Frog? No, I can't think of anyone.

24. Which of these names do you like best for a girl: Sage, Kelly, Olive, Emerald, or Ivy? All of them are okay.

25. Do you enjoy gardening? 🧑‍🌾 I did when I was younger, I was helping my dad.

26. Would you rather eat key lime pie, mint chocolate chip ice cream, or green tea flavored ice cream? Key lime pie sounds interesting, I'd love to try it.

27. Which of these names do you like best for a girl: Holly, Summer, Forest, Teal, or Aqua? Holly, definitely.

28. What are three of your favorite things to put on a salad? 🥗 Lettuce, green peas, chicken bits.

29. Do you like green tea? 🍵 No, the taste is too bland for me.

31. Do you know anyone who can't tell the difference between blue and green? Yeah, my husband. He's colourblind.

32. Can you bend your tongue into a clover? ☘️ I can't. I've heard it's a genetically-coded thing, so you can't learn it; either you have that ability or not.

33. Would you rather spend a year in Ireland 🇮🇪, Pakistan 🇵🇰, or Brazil 🇧🇷 ? Why? Ireland or Brazil, but Brazil tends to be hot. Ireland sounds best, it's not far from me either.

32. Which one of these words would you say describes you best: envious, nature lover, nauseating, health-conscious, or veggie lover? Veggie lover and nature lover.

33. What are three ways in which you feel you've grown as a person in the last three years? I started appreciating my life more after I suffered a stroke, I've become more chill about what the future brings, I stopped worrying too much (I still do, but way less and it's a relief).

34. Which one of these careers sounds the most appealing to you: farmer 🧑‍🌾 , naturopath, gastroenterologist, environmental scientist, or Irish dancer? Environmental scientist.

35. What are three of your favorite foods to eat that are green? Broccoli, lettuce, green peas. Bonus 4th thing, leek.

36. What are three of your favorite things to drink that are green? Honestly, I can't think of any.

37. Have you ever met anyone with the last name Green? Only the local variant in my language: De Groene, which means green.

38. What are three of your favorite types of plants? Palm trees, spider plants, roses.

39. Do you own any succulents? Only fake ones so my cat doesn't try to eat them.

40. Have you ever had a friend who was obsessed with Tinkerbell, and if so, what was her name? 🧚 No, never.

42. What are three things you don't like about nature? Too much rain, snakes (the only animal I truly dislike, I think), snow.

43. Do you enjoy camping? 🏕️ Not my thing on longer term.

44. What is your favorite thing about camping? Being in nature.

45. What is your least favorite thing about camping? Bugs, definitely.

46. When was the last time you went camping? Probably very long time ago.

47. What are three of the first things you would do if you won the lottery? 🤑 Buy a house, buy an apartment that I can rent, travel around the world.

50. What are three things you like that are green that haven't been mentioned? Emeralds, Brussels sprouts, dill.

#survey #q&a survey #themed survey

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after-witch · 3 years ago

Text

White Room White Walls [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: White Room White Walls [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: He’s going to come back soon. When he does, you’ll be waiting.

Prompt: Overhaul + “No live organism can continue for long to exist under conditions of absolute reality.”

Word Count: 1939

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, starvation/malnutrition, implied character death

He’s going to come back soon. When he does, you’ll be waiting.

Waiting for what is a little difficult to decide. Waiting for his praise? Waiting for his attention? Waiting for his mere presence, something to break up the monotony of the days that you’ve been in this room, all alone?

Four walls, all white. Decorated with a few hard-earned personal touches, tiny pops of color that make you far more grateful than you’d ever imagined they could. Your bathroom is adjacent, thank goodness, but quite sterile; he didn’t want bacteria building up on the pictures you’d asked to hang up against the white walls.

Every morning starts the same: you wake up to the sound of your alarm, you make your bed as neatly as possible before showering and changing into something clean.

It’s very important to be clean. Overhaul told you so.

Though, it’s a shame your room doesn’t have laundry facilities; after a while, with no clean clothes left in your drawers, you realized that you had to wash them by hand. Then you threw them over the curtain rod in the bathroom to drip dry. Some of them smell a bit mildewy now, but it’s nothing that another rub-down with your scented strawberry shampoo can’t cover up, right?

After you’re clean, you can officially start the day. Your schedule is blocked into exercises for your body and mind. Reading time and puzzle time and journaling. When Kai gets back, he’ll probably want to read your journal, so you keep it up even though there’s not much to say anymore. You’re running low on books, but it’s all right; you limit yourself to a chapter a day to stretch them out and, in any case, when he comes back he’ll surely agree to buy you new ones.

He has been gone longer than he originally said he would be, but you try not to mind. You try not to let it wheedle at you. He is so busy, after all. And he’s trusting you to take care of yourself while he’s gone. You don’t want to disappoint him.

In addition to schedule blocks for entertainment, you’re expected to keep up your health. This means eating and exercises on time, every day, and getting to bed early.

It used to feel good to exercise, but lately all it does is make you feel dizzy. Probably the stale air, you think, when you’re bracing your hands on your bed and waiting for the wooziness to pass. Once, you thought about skipping your exercises, thought that maybe it would be better not to use up the extra energy, considering--but the thought was quickly smoothed over when you remembered that he expected you to do it and you’d better stick to the schedule he laid out for you.

Besides, he was coming back soon, and you’d be able to ask him about the dizziness. Maybe he’d know what was going on. He liked to give you check-ups, even though you once insisted that he wasn’t a doctor, you learned to let him touch and poke and record numbers in the chart pinned to his clipboard without a fuss.

You hope he’ll give you a check-up when he gets back, because you just aren’t feeling like yourself lately.

It’s not his first trip away from you. It’s not the first time he sat you down and told you in his patronizing way that he was going away for a while, that you needed to be good until he got back.

But it is the first time you were given so much responsibility all for yourself. Before, there was always someone else who came in to bring you food and take your laundry and anything else you needed.

But this time, no one showed up the next morning. He told you someone was coming, but they didn’t.

It took you a while to realize that it was clearly a test. Kai wanted to know how well you could take care of yourself, how well you could follow routine, without him there to hover over you for most of the day.

If you want to pass, you need to keep going. Stick to the schedule. Stick to his expectations and everything will be fine.

Today, your alarm didn’t go off. The batteries must finally be dead. But it’s okay, you woke up at just the right time, anyway. Old habits and all.

You grab one of the least mildewy day dresses from your drawer and head into the bathroom.

The mirror in the bathroom is all white, muddy-streaked with soap so you can’t actually see yourself. The sight is startling, but only for a moment. Silly you. You must have forgotten to rinse it off with water while you were cleaning it, that’s all. But the thought of wetting down a rag and wiping it away makes your stomach clench--it always feel clenched, lately, tight and hurting--so you walk by the mirror and prepare to step into the bath instead.

The shower is cold. But you like cold showers. They’re the only kind you’ve had for quite some time. It’s another thing you’ve added to your list, to tell Kai when he gets back--hot water’s broken.

You have to remember not to make it sound like you’re complaining, though. You don’t want to seem ungrateful. Especially now that you realize just how much he does for you. You understand now what he meant when he called you ‘spoiled,’ the last time you acted out. You were spoiled. Now you know how hard it is to be without Kai, to be without his direction and guidance and overbearing need to keep you going.

But it’s not all bad. You still have your favorite shampoo. It’s been watered down a few times now, but there’s no more left in the cupboard and you have to make do. You’re resourceful; another way for Kai to test you, right? To see how you can keep yourself clean without all the pampering.

Besides, in a way, you like it watered down: you’ve noticed less of your hair on the bottom of the tub now that you’re not lazily rubbing thick gobs of strawberry shampoo into your hair every day. It doesn’t seem to stop the hair from lining your brush after you comb it dry, but that’s fine, you’ll take the little victory.

For a moment as you scrub yourself with your thinned bar of scented soap, you think too much about your body. About how strange it looks as you scrub your skin red. Certain parts are just too pointy now, hollow even. Like your stomach and the space between your hips and--you toss the soap back in the little dish and let the cold water run over you. You think about how you get dizzy when you sit up too fast or do your exercise or sometimes for no reason at all.

Then you remind yourself to stop thinking about those things.

Best not to think about silly things like that at all. Best to just get clean and get on with your day. When Kai gets back, he’ll figure out what’s going on with your body. Probably a cold or a flu or something. Or maybe your vision is a bit wonky, and that’s what you’re seeing when you glance over your stomach, your hips--maybe your depth perception is off and you need glasses. Kai will know.

After dressing, it’s breakfast time, so you pad back into the bathroom with your water cup and fill up the glass as fully as possible.

Gingerly, you carry the full glass back to your table and sit down. You glance at the clock and wait for it to get to just the right time before you take your first sip.

Water from the tap is cold but refreshing. You have water for breakfast and water for lunch and water for dinner. Sometimes, you mix in paper from one of your journal pages and stir it around the glass with your finger. It’s mushy and pulpy but paper is tree bark, isn’t it? And tree barks have some sort of nutrients, you think, so you’re doing the best you can to stick to your schedule--three healthy meals a day--with what you have.

Will Kai be mad that you’re drinking paper smoothies instead of normal meals? He’ll understand that you couldn’t exactly get a fork or spoon from thin air. He’ll understand that he forgot to put food in your room for your test, so you had to make do.

When he comes back, you’ll just have to explain that you didn’t have any other options.

Though, you confess… you are eating much quicker than the designated blocks for meal-times that he generously created for you. It’s not that you want to deviate from the schedule. But eating too slowly makes you miss the meals you used to have, mounds of steamed vegetables and freshly cooked fish and so many things that get your mouth watering and your stomach growling. It makes you worried that you’ll spend another night in the bathroom, stomach cramped and pain, crying out into your hands, begging for the pain to stop.

You won’t tell him about these things when he returns, except maybe the bathroom stuff, because you would like for something--a pill or special diet or treatment--to make that go away. You wish knew what was causing it. But that’s why Kai’s the expert and you’re just you.

So you sip quickly and grab a book from the shelf as soon as you’re done, and curl up on your bed to start reading today’s chapter. If you focus hard enough on the story, you can forget a lot of things.

You can forget that you’re so, so hungry. You can forget that it’s been days and days and days and he still hasn’t come back, even though he promised he would. You can forget that one of the light bulbs in your ceiling went out a week ago, and one day they’ll all go out and you’ll be here in the dark. You can forget the deep, deep fear that one day you will turn on the bathroom faucet and nothing will come out.

If you try hard enough, you can forget all of that. And when reading time is over, and your bleary eyes glance at the wall, you can focus on the next thing to help you forget: journaling.

You sit up, slowly, carefully, to avoid feeling too dizzy. But instead of grabbing your journal from the shelf, you make your way to your bed and pull back the warm, slightly musty covers.

The strap of your gown falls down your shoulders as you go to lay down. They keep doing that, lately. You had to stop wearing pants altogether, because they just wouldn’t stay up. You like the billowy gowns more and more, because they cover up all the parts of your body that make you uncomfortable, lately. You feel okay when you wear them. Just as long as you don’t look down in the ever-widening gaps created by the loose fabric on your chest.

It’s true that there are no naps on your schedule, and Kai might not like you inserting your own decisions into the fray. But you’re just so tired lately.

Wouldn’t it be okay if you napped, just sometimes? You’ll write in your journal tomorrow. You’ll confess that you eat too fast and you worry too much and that you hope Kai will come home soon, because this test he’s putting you through is confusing and hard and you might be losing.

You feel dizzy again. Must be the air. Or maybe the book was too exciting. It’s just too hard to figure out.

He’s going to come back soon. If he does, you’ll be waiting.

#yandere overhaul #yandere kai chisaki #overhaul x reader #yandere #yandere bnha #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest

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parvulous-writings · 4 years ago

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Home // Mother!Dimitrescu x Child!F!Reader

Request: Hi! may i request this scenario: what if lady dimitrescu had a fourth daughter? like child reader stumbles into the castle and lady dimitrescu decides to raise her as her own. thanks love!

Requested by: Anon

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu adopts a new daughter.

Warnings: mentions of death

Words: 1.7K

Notes: My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif

Cold. That was the only thing you could feel. The only thing you had felt for the past several hours, at least. Well, feel in a loose sense of the term. Your limbs were numb, stiff and unable to move. You had been shuffling forward with no real sense of direction for who knows how long now, with no end in sight, no shelter from the elements you were forced to endure. Your home had been attacked by massive monsters- not quite man, not quite human. You parents had ushered you and your siblings out of your home, but now you were the last of your family line. One by one, your family had been picked off by your attackers, but each time you had managed to wriggle your way out of the situation. At one point you had even ducked into the woods to escape the beasts, but now that you had returned to the village you didn’t know what landmarks were what; almost everything you could recognise had been destroyed. You did, however, manage to find the Maiden of War, a statue that was in the centre of a roundabout like pathway that tractors and wagons often used. In normal life at least. Nearby to that, up some stone steps, was a stone door with a carving that frightened most of the children of the village, even with the two reliefs missing. However, this time, the reliefs were there, and the gateway had opened ever so slightly. Void of hope, and with every other option exhausted, you shuffle towards it, slipping through the crack, and starting up the snow-covered pathway to who knows where. Though, by looking up, you assumed that it lead to the massive castle which loomed over the village and it’s surroundings.

The trek up there was probably much shorter than it seemed to be. There was a drawbridge that lay over a small, shallow body of water, and your footsteps echo off of it as you cross into a dark and rocky tunnel. It’s very dimly lit- nothing more than wall mounted torches and the fading remaining light to guide your way. You felt your way along to stone wall, the surface cold to the touch, not that you could tell all that much. Eventually, you came to a door. It was tall, much taller than you, although it was only about average height in reality. You pressed all your weight against it, and slowly- oh so slowly- did it creak open. You scurried inside, pushing the door shut once more behind you. After catching your breath you take a moment to observe your surroundings- you were in a rather lavish room, just large enough to be classed as a hall, with hard, marble floors and a tiny staircase onto a more raised floor. You clamber up them, and notice a rather detailed portrait in front of you, of three beautiful young women, with tied up brown hair, sitting together in what appeared to be a forest or woodland clearing; it was a little bit hard to tell since the women took up most of the picture. You tilted your head slightly as you got lost in the colours and brushstrokes, wondering who these women were and what they did to warrant such a wonderful portrait. Of course, there was a plaque beneath it- most likely holding some of the information you wanted- you couldn’t read it, and it was a little too high for you anyway.

The sound of an opening door somewhere down the hall to your left catches your attention. Without knowing what else to do, you start to walk towards it, staying close to the walls and running your hand slowly along it. You push through a few more doors, before coming to a large hall- occupied with a chair, small table, assorted plants and even a chest of drawers in a corner. Your eyes roam upwards, and this room alone could house the entirety of the village, perhaps two or three times over. You knew the castle was big- it often occupied conversation among the children of the village- but this took your breath away. Not only was it huge, but it was ornate, more ornate than anything you had seen before in your life. One mere trinket from this room alone could have fed your family for at least two months, had they been alive still to see this. You hear another door close behind you, and you spin round to see if who is there. You can only hope that the residents of this castle take pity on you. But, you see nothing. No one. You’re incredibly confused by this, and you have to glance this way and that to make sure that there’s no one around you. All you can find is a few flies. Wait. There’s more than a few. There’s three whole clouds. You give a small shriek and duck to the floor, covering your head and face to try and hide away from the bugs, making sure they didn’t get near your face. If they didn’t get near your face, you could pretend they weren’t there at all.

The only problem was, you could still hear the buzzing of their wings. You felt a few beat against your back, as the sounds began to warp and change. From buzzing and droning to... Laughter? Yes, it was laughter, three different laughs to be exact. Fearfully, you look up from your arms, to see three, rather fearsome looking young women in front of you. In surprise you bury your face into your arms again- if you couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see you, right? The three girls look between one another, slightly confused. Not at your behaviour, but more at how you- a mere child- had managed to get yourself up into the castle. The one standing in the middle, one with red, oddly shaved hair, crouched down in front of you, tilting her head curiously. She glanced over her shoulder at the other two fly women, who shrugged at her; they didn’t know who you were or how you got into the castle either. “Child?” The one in front of you spoke, her voice like silk to your ears, especially after their piercing laughs and the roars of the Lycans. You shakily lift your head up again, looking up at her with tears of fear starting to prick at the corners of your eyes. She holds her hand out to you, trying to give you a smile of reassurance. It works to some extent, though you don’t have too much of a choice other than to take the woman’s hand, so you carefully do so. She helps you to your feet, and you see the other two women staring at you. The blonde women looks to the last one, a brunette wearing a yellow variation of the pendant worn by all three. “Go tell mother.” The blonde said to her, to which the brunette burst into a cloud of flies in reply, swooping off down a hall. You give a yelp of surprise, hiding behind the legs of the woman who’s hand you still clutch to. She looks at you, confused for a second.

She sighs, and starts to tug you along. “Come on.” She urges, rather impatiently, dragging you off down a side hall, where you can hear a couple of voices as you approach another door. The blonde woman pushes the door open, “Mother.” She greets, speaking to someone sitting in a plush, velvety chair. Whoever is sitting down places a crimson glass on a small table in front of her, before getting to her feet. “Well, let’s take a look at the child.” She speaks, and your jaw practically drops at her height. You hardly even reach her knees. You’re not sure whether to remain in awe, or to let the fright and fear set in. She looks down at you, regarding you briefly before starting to smile. “Why... I don’t see why you were so panicked, Cassandra...” She spoke to the brunette stood beside her chair, sent ahead of the other two with you. “Look at her- she poses no threat. It was chance she happened upon us, was it not?” She looked to the woman, who has lowered her head respectfully. “Yes, mother.” She replied, before moving her gaze over to you again. “What are we to do with her? She is human, what if-” “Ah-ah.” The tall woman interrupts. “No what-ifs.” She says sternly, before turning her attention fully to you. “What happened to your family, little one?” She asks, not bothering to get down on your level. You take a moment to answer, which the Lady of the castle allows, considering you are merely a child, and in a strange new environment. She could understand any fear you may have, she has been there herself in the past. “The.. The monsters.” You squeak, and the woman hums softly, looking at her three daughters briefly.

In her mind, you were a child without a family, a child with need of a home and a family. She gave a curt nod to herself, folding her arms over her chest. “Well, then we shall be your new family.” She tells you, and the shock is clear on your face. “What..?” You whisper, your voice hardly audible to any of the other women in the room. “We shall be your new family.” She declares proudly again, “These are your new sisters. Bela.” She gestures to the woman still holding loosely onto your hand, with the shaved red hair. “Daniela.” She gestured to the blonde woman on the other side of you, “And Cassandra.” She placed a hand on the shoulder of the girl closest to her. “And you can call me mother.” She smiled brightly at you, stepping forward slightly, and bending down, opening her arms to you. “Come here, child.” She coos to you, as Bela drops your hand. You shuffle towards her, and as soon as you’re close enough, she scoops you up into her arms, resting you against her shoulder, cradling you with a warm smile. “Come now, let us find you a room...” She whispers, and as she starts walking through the seemingly endless maze of hallways you feel yourself drifting off to sleep in the arms of.. Well, your mother. Despite only just meeting her, you feel safe with her and her daughters, your sisters. You knew you’d be happy here, happier than you would be anywhere else, especially in the ruins of the village you once called home.

------

Part two

#tall vampire lady #lady d #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x female reader #alcina x reader #lady alcina #alcina dimitrescu

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aoitrinity · 4 years ago

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Why Do I Have to Feel Like a Fucking Conspiracy Theorist -- OR -- How I Find a Semblance of Peace on Sunday Night

I’m also going to start this out with a GIANT DISCLAIMER.

I am about to theorize about what may have happened to the SPN finale. I have absolutely no insider knowledge. I am merely speculating here based on the panels and a bunch of Twitter and Tumblr posts that I have been reading over the last few days. If you are not in a good place to read such things, TURN BACK PLEASE. Go take care of yourself and your mental health. You and your feelings are valid and deserve to be handled gently right now.

Additionally, if you are here to give me shit for being unhappy with the ending, please walk away as well. I am here to reach out and share my feelings with people who might be struggling to make sense of something that upset some of us in very deep-seated ways. I am not here to bother you or critique you or tell you that you’re lesser because you liked the ending. If you felt it was good, then go enjoy it.

Long-ass post beneath the cut, everyone.

Alrighty folks...I debated whether or not to do this because I have been spiraling down the hell that is the SPN finale since Thursday. The travesty of what happened to our show--to this beloved show that seemed to have been so perfectly and precisely written for at least four years that it had basically already paved its own tarmac on which to land its plane and we all thought we knew exactly what we were going to get. And then we didn’t. We had a nigh Cas-less and entirely Eileen-less ending. We had no goodbye between Cas and Jack. We had Dean dying young after finally finding his freedom, only to ascend to heaven with no one but Bobby. We had the weird, weird, weird incest-y death scene. We had the bridge crane shot thing because...sure. You do you, Robert Singer.

It was so terrible, so truly awful, and I couldn’t seem to square any of it with anything we had known going in. I tossed and turned and cried and didn’t eat or sleep all weekend. I spent hours just reloading tumblr and twitter, going to the Misha panel, reading and reading and listening and trying to figure out what the fucking hell is going on because I needed to know exactly where to direct my anger. And after a fuckton of talking with @winchester-reload, I think we have at least a very plausible theory about what happened here--I’m laying it out below as much for my own peace of mind as anything else, because otherwise all of these thoughts are going to continue to spin around in my head for weeks and I won’t be able to do jack shit.

Now to start off, unfortunately I do think Dean was slated to die from the beginning of this season. I don’t know WHY they thought that was the best way to go, and I wish they had listened to Jensen on this one. Part of me wonders if it was an order from on high based on the discussion between Becky and Chuck earlier this season--the writers knew it wasn’t a great choice, but they were trying to signal to us that we should feel free to write our own endings to the story because they’d be better (I can wax poetic on the signs of why many of the writers probably wanted Dean to live, but that’s another post). I’m not defending that choice by any means, just laying it out there that I think they didn’t necessarily all want to kill Dean like they did.

However, what I THINK I can explain now is what happened with Misha and why we got so jerked around with Cas’s story. Consider what we know (I can’t immediately source all of it, but I did my best):

At the end of episode 15x19, Lucifer has been returned to the Empty after being killed AGAIN. He talks with Cas. Maybe harasses him a bit about Dean, idk. But then...Jack shows up. New God Jack. And he picks up Cas and pulls him out of the Empty, leaving Lucifer behind, because seriously. Fuck that guy (also leaving behind his abusive father is character growth for Jack, so yay for that).

-Misha was contracted to film 15 episodes this season. He was only in 14.

-Misha told Michael Sheen he had to go back to film 1.5 episodes after the shutdown in March. (Starts at 6:13)

-Misha was in Vancouver during filming of the finale.

-Mark P said at Darklight Con that the last scene he filmed was with Alex and Misha (and Mark P was only in episode 19).

-Misha implied that he was present for various filming moments, including Dean’s death (start at 35:15), and said that it felt like a “mini-reunion.”

-Various sources have mentioned that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale.

-After episode 18, Stands tweeted a fan who was angered and hurt by Cas's death that they could talk about the “bury the gays” issue after the finale aired.

-In episode 19 we know there were takes of the parking lot scene where the only thing fans observing could hear was Dean yelling “CAS” at Chuck (fuck I can’t find this one right now, but it’s definitely out there)

-Also in episode 19, we had a very strange, awkward montage at the end of the episode.

-In episode 20, we know there were a FUCKTON of missing scenes

-We also had no opening montage, but three other separate montages.

-Carry on My Wayward Son was played TWICE, back-to-back at the end of the episode.

-Episode 20 was shorter than normal and had surprisingly little dialogue. The pacing was VERY strange.

-The cast and crew has been almost completely silent about the finale since it came out. When they have spoken, it has been with an awkward excuse of “Uh...COVID?”

-Samantha Ferris has specifically noted that, despite the Harvelle’s being back in play and a big heaven reunion having been planned pre-COVID, neither she nor Chad Lindberg received any such invitation to return.

-Cas and Dean POP Funko figures were pictured together in a replica of Harvelle’s in 15x04.

NOW with all of this in mind (and I’m probably missing some stuff too because there is so much--feel free to add on to that list), please bear with me because here is what I think we were SUPPOSED to get POST-COVID (after it was determined that the reunion couldn’t happen because of the virus):

In episode 20, we start with our NORMAL OPENING MONTAGE, like always. It traces everything that happened during the season. We are reminded of Cas. The confession. Rowena. Eileen. Jack. Billie, God, the Empty, all of it.

Things then follow along in the episode where they did up until Dean dies and wakes up in heaven. After his conversation with Bobby, he drives off to find Cas (who, in the script, was listed as “Jimmy Novak” in order to protect against script leaks--who wouldn’t want to do their best to avoid spoilers about the finale with the wrapping of a fifteen-year show?). He does indeed find Cas. We get Dean’s end of the confession. Hell, maybe we even get a kiss. And then Dean sets up his new heaven home in the recreated Harvelle’s. Maybe Cas even fucking moves in.

Years pass. We get Sam having his life on Earth (still can’t explain why they cut Eileen and couldn’t even have Sam signing vaguely to the blurry brunette in the background; if anyone wants to take that on, go for it). Eventually, Cas tells Dean that it’s almost Sam’s time. Dean takes Baby and goes to meet Sam at the bridge. The cover of Carry on My Wayward Son plays during this much shorter sequence. End of episode.

But that’s not what we got. Instead, much of what I just wrote about was excised from the episode. The remnants were stitched together after shooting had been wrapped. Filler was added in the form of montages and long, unnecessary extra shots to get the episode to something approaching a reasonable length.

But why? Why would they spend all that time and money and quarantining on Misha, only to almost completely cut him out of the finale? I struggled with why the fuck the CW would want this mammoth show to go down as the greatest queerbait in TV history when they had the chance to do something truly beautiful and monumental with it? It couldn’t just be sheer homophobia, right? Well, I think that factored into it, my friends, but here is where my head is at right now.

It was about cold, hard cash.

Now I could be wrong, but this is what I’m thinking at the moment: Supernatural is going off of the air. Supernatural, the CW’s cash cow for fifteen years. Sure there is still money to be made on blu-rays and merchandise and cons...but they need people watching their shows. They need that sweet advertising revenue. And you know what show they have about to premiere? A show that could, potentially, bring with it a chunk of that SPN revenue?

Walker.

And if any of you know anything about the original Walker Texas Ranger, you know that the show was predominantly a show about a very heterosexual white man being very excessively heterosexual. And for SOME REASON over the years, many of the execs at the CW still seem to think that this show, Supernatural, is really attractive to a lot of middle-American white men...whom they desperately want to watch this new show with this guy from Supernatural that they already know.

Now here’s where COVID fucked us. I think Destiel was greenlit by TPTB, at least in SOME form, before COVID. But then the pandemic happened, and they panicked. They got the cut of the last two episodes and watched them in their original, probably queer form. And then, the execs at CW looked at the economy. They looked at their cash cow, about to make its journey to the great beyond. And they looked at this new little calf Walker that they were so desperately worried about. And they made a choice.

They decided that it would be too risky to take the step with Destiel. They were worried about frightening off their ever-so-valuable hetero male demographic with the possibility that a traditionally masculine man in his 40s could be in love with another man in an overt way. It was homophobia mixed with greed, spun up by fear for their revenues because of COVID.

So they called in Singer, possibly Dabb, although I wouldn’t be surprised if they went straight to Singer. They told them that Destiel had to go: executive orders. And the only way to make it go in a way that removed any trace of what had been there was to rewrite what happened to Cas and cut him out from the last two episodes entirely. It was too late to reshoot anything. They had to just cut and stitch and fill with bullshit montages.

They removed the scene at the end of 19, probably because Cas and Lucifer discussed Dean. All that was left of Misha there was his voice on that fake phone call. They may have cut other things too, but I would bet my life that they cut a scene from the end of the episode and replaced it with that very strange montage. Then they moved onto 20. They cut out every scene with Cas. And left in only two platonic mentions of him, neither made by Dean. They tried to imply that Cas might show up in Dean’s heaven at some point, but that was as far as the editors could go in the time they had. They filled in with montages, awkwardly long shots, anything they could do to fill all of those missing scenes.

And they even had to take the opening montage, because literally everything in it pointed to Cas being there at the end of it all. They wouldn’t be able to leave out his scenes, they were too critical to the season. They couldn’t cut his confession without raising eyebrows. So they cut the whole thing and moved “Carry On My Wayward Son” to one of the newly-added driving montages at the end. Which is why we awkwardly had both songs play back-to-back--again, such a strange choice unless they were out of options and couldn’t exactly buy rights to a new track or compose anything else.

And so we were left with the shadow of the finale that we deserved, that Cas and Dean deserved. We were left without resolution or happiness or words. Bobo told us the most important thing about happiness is just “saying it” and our characters were silenced without anyone ever knowing the truth.

I think the writers might have known and been given the new party line that “Misha never filmed, he couldn’t, sorry, it was COVID, no one’s fault!” But I don’t think most of the cast even knew it had happened until they watched the finale on Thursday with us (though they might have been confused why the bit from 15x19 was sliced, they could reasonably have assumed it was a time thing and also BL episodes don’t make sense anyway). Why do I say that?

Well, first of all, Misha started sending out a bunch of excited texts to fans with some old BTS pictures about an hour before the show started airing on EST. He also wanted his children to see the episode, his YOUNG children. Why would he show them such a traumatic episode if their Dad wasn’t in it? What if it was because he wanted them to witness what was going to be a monumental moment in queer television history that their DAD got to be a part of? And then that was all dashed.

Which is why I think the cast and crew went almost completely radio silent the next day. I don’t think they knew. And based on how they have been acting on social media since then, I think many of them are absolutely furious, but they have been silenced because of NDAs, because they want to find work again in a cutthroat industry, because they don’t want to bring down the hellfire of Warner Brothers Entertainment upon themselves. So the most we have gotten is a little acknowledgement from the MERCHANDISING COMPANY trying to validate our pain (god bless Shirts, she is a LIFESAVER) and a response to my salty tweet about keeping good stuff in the closet from Adam Williams (the VFX coordinator) that seemed to acknowledge the validity of my complaint.

Then there was a scramble behind the scenes, I would bet my life. Talking points were fed to the boys who had panels today, to CE, to all the cast and crew:

Toe the party line. Misha never filmed. This was always about COVID. Do not mention Destiel. Do not mention Dean’s feelings for Cas. Do not promote the Castiel Project or anything that validates the idea that this was anything less than a superb ending.

And that is why we have heard so little from the cast on this front, and what we have heard has been muddled and contradictory. That is why the writers are saying nothing. That is why we have been left adrift.

Now before I close this out, I do want to say that I really, genuinely do not think this was on the writers at all. I feel like they tried to give us the best ending that they could, in a writers room that we know is notorious for splitting along party lines about the overall story (BL and Singer, who have always been about the brothers and their man-pain vs. Dabb and the rest who always seemed to want more for them and for Cas). I think they did everything in their power to at least end with Dean and Cas happy together. If they could give us nothing else, they wanted to give us that. And then the network took it from them. From us. From everyone.

For the sake of fucking money.

And the WORST PART OF IT ALL, for me, is that in the wake of this disaster, the fans have been left to try and figure out what happened. We have had to wade through a mire of conflicting information in the midst of all of our collective anger and grief over this garbage ending of a show many of us have loved and even relied on for YEARS, all the while wondering if we’re just fucking crazy, if we have all fallen collectively into the hole of conspiracy theories. That hurts ESPECIALLY badly because we have taken so many hits over the years from other groups on social media saying we were crazy for seeing things that weren’t there (especially Destiel), for writing meta and analyzing tropes and believing the evidence of our eyes and ears. The network has made us relive that entire nightmare WHILE processing our grief for a show we wanted so badly to celebrate and which instead we now have to mourn.

So again guys, I cannot prove that this is exactly what happened at all; this is simply my idea of what may have happened. But right now, it’s the most sense I can make from this mess, and to be honest, the act of typing it out has helped me enormously in my processing of it all. I feel like I can see more clearly, like I know where to target my outrage and where to direct empathy. I feel like just fucking maybe, I might be able to do my job tomorrow without bursting into tears at random moments.

I really hope that this post has helped some of you to, in some small way, process this too. We get through this the way that Misha told us at his panel this morning, the way the writers have told us to do all season long...we throw out the story God gave us and we make it better. We write our characters the happy endings they deserve.

We save them.

One last thing--if you have not already, please consider channeling your rage into a donation to one of the five causes our fandom has put together to pay tribute to our beloved show and to mourn the ending it should have had:

-The Castiel Project

-Dean Winchester is Love

-Sam Winchester Project

-The National Association of the Deaf

-The Jack Kline Project

#supernatural season 15 #spn finale #speculation #destiel #destielgate #the ending was not the ending #fuck the cw #trust the story #we were robbed

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bokubonk · 4 years ago

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happy anniversary

warnings: angst

content: hurt/comfort, angst

characters: Ushijima x gn!reader

date: 2/14/21

word count: 2.1k+

notes: Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves! Let us celebrate with some angst :)) Also I know I said it would be a few more days until I update but I just couldn’t resist writing this one.

You approached your boyfriend once you saw the boys cleaning up after practice. You had been standing outside, waiting for your boyfriend for the past few hours. It was cold, but you didn’t mind, your excitement to celebrate your one year anniversary with Ushijima kept you warm.

Your freezing hands were wrapped around his gift: a new volleyball. You saw that the one he had been practicing with was getting worn down from how powerful his spikes were and you wanted to get him a new one, knowing how much the sport meant to him.

You crept into the gym as quietly as you could, not wanting to bother anyone but you saw some of the team members noticed you and they sent you small smiles after they saw the gift you were hiding behind your back. After all, they remembered that today was the date the two of you got together, their stoic captain and you, who somehow managed to put up with Ushijima’s busy schedule and look after the team like they were your own children.

Tendou and Ushijima were on the other side of the gym and you could see Ushijima being hard on himself as usual. Sweat lined his brow as he continued practicing his spikes, the force echoing throughout the gym.

You winced from how loud it was and as you came closer you locked eyes with Tendou, who waved at you and raised his eyebrows at Ushijima, exclaiming, “Oh? Look who it is, lover boy, your beloved y/n is here!”

Ushijima paused to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed and you were unsure of what to make of his expression. You knew your boyfriend wasn’t one to show emotion but the look he was giving you now wasn’t one that you were expecting, especially since today was your anniversary.

“Go home, y/n,” he said, “I will be staying late today to practice. You should go home now. It isn’t safe to walk around alone at night.”

Your hopeful expression dropped but you tried your best to keep a smile on your face. He turned away from you and Tendou gave you a sympathetic look. It seemed Ushijima had forgotten what today was but you tried comforting yourself, reminding yourself that he was busy and that he had other priorities in his life just like you did. After all, you were both third years and there were plenty of things to worry about.

But, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest as you wished that just once, he would put more effort into your relationship. You were beginning to grow used to the ache in your chest from all the neglect you endured after Ushijima continued choosing volleyball over your dates.

He would schedule last minute practices and leave you waiting for hours at the restaurants or the parks he promised to meet you at. You should be used to it by now, but you couldn’t help but hold onto the hope that he would change.

You believed in his promises and even when he broke them, you told yourself it was okay, because you loved him and because he loved you, even if it didn’t seem that way sometimes.

Your cold hands clenched around his gift, the weight of the volleyball growing heavier as the seconds passed by and the lump in your throat grew.

“Wakatoshi, I-,” you began, but he cut you off. “I do not have the time right now, y/n.”

“I need to perfect this.”

You moved your gaze away from him and stared at the ground, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You could feel the pitying gazes of the other team members as they looked at you and you hated how small you felt.

Today was supposed to be a happy day so where did it all go wrong? What did you do to deserve being treated like this?

“But today is-,” you tried once again, your tears forcing your voice to a whisper.

“You are bothering me,” he interjected, harshly, “I am sure what you have to tell me can wait.”

You gave a small nod and began making your way out of the gym. Footsteps followed after you and for a second, you hoped it was Ushijima but when you heard a voice call your name, you felt the familiar taste of bitter disappointment.

“Y/n, he’s just having a bad day,” Tendou consoled, his eyes widening when he saw your tear-stained cheeks. “You know he didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled, one that clearly didn’t reach your eyes from how the frown on Tendou’s face deepened. You used the sleeves of your thin jacket to wipe away your tears before extending the gift in your hand.

“Give it to him for me, will you?” you murmured weakly, “Make sure he doesn’t practice too late and don’t let him overexert himself.”

“No, y/n,” Tendou shook his head. “You should give it to him yourself. I’ll go grab him right now and tell him to walk you home.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, “I’m not in the mood to celebrate anyway. I just came to drop off his gift.”

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he frowned, his anger rising as more tears fell from your eyes. He knew how much you were looking forward to celebrating your anniversary and he felt terrible at how you were being treated by Ushijima. He wasn’t blind to all of the sacrifices you made for him and he knew it was time Ushijima stopped taking you for granted.

“Good night, Tendou.”

The walk home was cold and lonely and you only felt worse when you woke up the next morning with a fever. But you were comforted by all the messages from Tendou and the other members asking how you were doing and interrogating you. They were seconds away from going over to your house because of your lack of response when you assured them you were doing fine and sent them a picture of yourself in bed, saying you had a fever.

Even with the group chat blowing up, there was still no response from Ushijima and you wondered if he just didn’t care.

Your thoughts were swarmed with insecurities and before you knew it, you were sobbing into your pillow.

Does he even love me?

You tried remembering a time where he actually said those three words, but you found you couldn’t. A year of dating and “I love you” never escaped his lips. A year of being treated like a second choice. A year of putting his feelings first and getting your heart stomped on.

You were tired and you didn’t know how much longer this cycle of disappointment could go on.

You were torn out of your thoughts when you heard the front door open and the low murmur of voices before heavy footsteps began approaching your room. You pulled the covers over your head, hiding your messy hair and your swollen face.

The door creaked as it opened and you peeked through the small opening of the blanket, your mouth dropping in surprise when you saw a large figure standing in your bedroom.

“Ushijima?” you questioned, sitting up abruptly before wincing at your nausea caused by the sudden movement.

He stopped examining all the photos in your room and turned around to face you, his eyes widening when he saw your red-rimmed eyes. He barely registered the fact that you called him by his last name and not his first, his main focus was what made you cry.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” he asked, worry clearly written on his face. “Why are you crying?”

“Why are you here, Ushijima?” you asked instead, bringing your gaze to your fidgeting fingers, a habit you did when you were nervous.

“You are sick so I brought medicine and food to help you recover,” his eyebrows furrowed at your question and the lack of excitement in your tone when before, you always greeted him with a smile. It was one of his favorite things about you and he was beginning to miss it.

“Well, as you can see, I’m fine. You can just leave the medicine and go. I wouldn’t want to interfere with your practice,” your tone was harsh and left no room for argument.

You were angry, Ushijima finally realized. The hurt expression on your face wasn’t one he was used to and he didn’t know how to fix it. His heart shattered as your chin began to tremble and tears trailed down your cheeks.

He remembered the harsh words he gave you and the fact that he made you walk home alone and he opened his mouth to apologize when he heard you whisper, “Do you even remember what day it was yesterday?”

His silence answered your question and you let out a bitter laugh, sliding back under the covers and turning away from him. “Just go away, Ushijima.”

“Please,” your voice cracked as you held back a sob.

He stared at your shaking form, a frown tugging at his lips but he listened to you words and exited your room, the door letting a resounding click as it closed.

Despite your words, you hoped he would stay but you figured this was just another disappointment to add to the list. The thought only made you cry more and Ushijima listened just on the other side of the door, wondering what he could do to fix this.

You wondered if this was the end of your relationship and after an hour of crying, you finally fell asleep. By the time you woke up, daylight had faded and your room was now shrouded in darkness.

You were creeped out by how silent the house was but you figured it was time to get out of bed and get something to eat. You walked downstairs and heard the shuffling of footsteps.

“Mom?” you called out, now a little nervous that an intruder had somehow gotten in while you were sleeping.

You tiptoed your way into the living room, only for a scream to lodge itself in your throat as the lights suddenly flickered on. Ushijima stood there in a suit with a cake in his hands.

“Ushijima?” you gasped, “What are you doing here?”

He placed the cake on a table nearby and walked towards you, cupping your cheeks in between his large hands. You were too surprised to react, still shocked by the fact that he was still here and he hadn’t left.

“I am sorry, y/n,” he said, his voice soft as he struggled to convey his feelings. “You mean so much to me and I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t mean to forget our anniversary.”

You came to your senses once you heard his words and you stepped back, letting his hands fall from your face.

“It’s not just that, Ushijima,” you whispered, “I’m just tired. I’m tired of always being a second choice to volleyball and always putting in all the effort only to receive none in return.”

He thought of all the times he rescheduled your dates or came late because he chose to spend more time practicing and guilt washed over him. Ushijima never realized just how much you did for him. He was blind to your suffering and now he was facing the consequences.

“I will be better,” he promised. There was no hint of hesitation in his voice. He truly meant it and you could feel your walls slowly crumbling once again. “I will be someone who is worthy of you. Just give me a second chance to prove my love to you.”

Your breath caught and time stumbled.

“You love me?”

You didn’t expect him to confess and now that he had, you were completely powerless to stopping yourself from falling for him once again. The ache in your chest was replaced with warmth and you found the smallest of smiles forming on your lips.

“I always have,” he replied, reaching up to rub a thumb across your cheekbone. He leaned down to kiss your forehead before touching his lips to your eyelids. His face was centimeters away from yours when he pulled back, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded and he pulled you closer. The both of you missed each other and the kiss was soft but desperate. You could feel the familiar butterflies making themselves known as he pulled away and gave you one of his rare smiles, the one he only gave you. “Happy belated anniversary, my love.”

“Happy anniversary, Wakatoshi.”

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